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CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE
WITH
ECKERMANN AND SORET;
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
By JOHN OXENFORD,
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER & CO., 65, CORNHILL.
1850.
London t
Printed by Strwart and Mutray,
Old Bailey.
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE,
1827 (continued).
//
VOL. II. B
1827.
(Sup.) Wednesday, September 26, 1827.
Goethe had invited me to take a drive this morning
to the Hottelstedt Ecke, the most western summit of
the Ettersberg, and thence to the Ettersburg hunt-
ing lodge. The day was very fine, and we drove
early out of the Jacob's gate. Behind Lutzendorf,
where the journey was up-hill, and we could only
drive leisurely, we had an opportunity for various
observations. Goethe observed in the hedges a num-
ber of birds, and asked me if they were larks. Thou
great and beloved one, thought I, though thou hast
investigated nature as few others have, in ornithology
thou appearest a mere child.
"These are yellow-hammers and sparrows," re-
turned I, u and some late gras-mücfonf which, after
moulting, come from the thicket of the Ettersberg
down to the gardens and fields, and prepare for their
migration ; but there are no larks. It is not in the
nature of larks to settle upon bushes. The field or
sky-larks, rise upwards into the air, and dart down
again to the earth ; they also, in the autumn,, fly
through the air in flocks, and settle themselves some-
# A kind of small tinging bird.«— Tram,
B 2
4 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [ l ^7*
where in a stubble-field ; but they do not settle upon
hedges and bushes. The tree-lark, on the contrary,
lives on the summit of high trees, whence it rises
singing into the air, and then drops down again to
its tree-top. There is still another lark, which is
found in woodland glades, and which has a soft, flute-
like, but rather melancholy song. It is not found
on the Ettersberg, which is too lively, and too near
the dwellings of man \ neither does it perch upon
bushes."
" Humph ! " said Goethe, " you appear to be no
novice in these things."
" I have pursued the subject with ardour from my
youth," returned I, "and have always had my eyes
and ears open to it. In the whole wood of .the Etters-
berg, there are few spots through which I have not
repeatedly rambled. Now, when I hear any note, I
can venture to say from what bird it proceeds. I
have also gone so far that, if any one brings me a bird
that has lost its feathers in captivity through bad treat-
ment, I will undertake very soon to restore it to health
and full feather."
"That certainly shews," returned Goethe, "that
you have already made much progress in these matters ;
I would advise you to pursue the study earnestly ; it
must, with your decided inclination, lead to very good
results. But tell me something about moulting. You
just now spoke of gras-mücken^ which, after the com-
pletion of their moulting, come down into the fields from
the thickets of the Ettersberg. Is moulting, then, con-
fined to a certain time, and do all birds moult at once ? "
" Most birds," returned I, " commence at the end
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 5
of the breeding season ; that is to say, as soon as the
young of the last brood are so far advanced as to
be able to take care of themselves. But now the
question is, whether the bird has time to moult be-
tween this period and that of its migration ? If it
has, it moults, and migrates with fresh feathers ; but
if it has not, it migrates with its old feathers, and
moults later, in the warm south. Birds do not all
return to us at the same time in the spring; neither
do they migrate at the same time in the autumn. And
this proceeds from the circumstance that some are
less affected by cold and rough weather, and can bear
it better than others. But a bird which comes to us
early migrates late, and a bird which comes to us late
migrates early.
" Thus, even amongst the gras-miieien, though they
belong to one class, there is a great difference. The
chattering gras-mücke^ or the müller-chenj* are heard
at the end of March; a fortnight after comes the
black-headed one, or the monk (Mönch) ; then, a
week afterwards, the nightingale ; and quite at the
end of April, or the beginning of May, the grey one.
All these birds moult in August with us, as well
as the young of the first brood ; wherefore, at the
end of August, young monks are caught, which have
already black heads. The young of the last brood,
however, migrate with their first feathers, and moult
later in the southern countries, for which reason
young monks are caught at the beginning of Sep«
tember, especially young male birds, which have red
heads like their mother."
• Literallj, « little miller."— Tram.
6 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827. 1
u Is, then," asked Goethe, " the grey gras-müeke
the latest bird that returns to us, or are there others
later ?"
" The so-called yellow spott-vogel (mocking-bird),
and the magnificent golden pirol (yellow thrush),"
returned I, cc do not appear till about Whitsuntide.
Both migrate in the middle of August, after the breed-
ing season, and moult, with their young, in the south.
If they are kept in cages, they moult with us in the
winter j on which account they are very difficult to
rear. They require much warmth, yet if we hang
them near the stove they pine from the want of
fresh air; while if, on the contrary, we place them
near the window, they pine in the cold of the long
nights."
" It is supposed, then," said Goethe, " that moult-
ing is a disease, or at least is attended by bodily
weakness."
" I would not say that," said I. " It is a state of
increased productiveness, which is gone through with-
out difficulty in the open air, and with somewhat strong
birds perfectly well in a room. I have had gras-mücken
which have not ceased singing during their moulting, a
sign that they were thoroughly well. But if a bird
kept in a room appears at all sickly during its moulting,
it may be concluded that it has not been properly
treated, with respect either to food, water, or fresh
air. If, in the course of time, a bird kept in a room
has grown so weak from want of air and freedom,
that it has not the productive power to moult, and
if it is then taken into the fruitful, fresh air, the
moulting will go on as well as possible. With a
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. J
bird at liberty, on the other hand, it passes off so gently
and gradually that it is scarcely felt/ 9
"But, still, you just now seemed to hint/ 9 added
Goethe, a that during their moulting the gras-mücken
retire into the depths of the forest."
"During that time," returned I, "they certainly
need shelter; and in this case nature proceeds with
such wisdom and moderation, that a bird during its
moulting never loses so many feathers at once as
to render it incapable of flying sufficiently to reach
its food. But it may still happen that it loses, for in-
stance, at the same time the fourth, fifth, and sixth
principal feathers of the left wing, and the fourth,
fifth, and sixth feathers of the right one, so that,
although it can still fly very well, it cannot fly well
enough to escape from the pursuing birds of prey —
especially the swift and active tree falcon — and then a
bushy thic et is very useful."
" Good," returned Goethe. " But," continued he»
" does the moulting take place in both wings equally
and symmetrically ? "
<c As far as my observation extends, quite so," re-
turned I ; " and that is very beneficial. For if a bird
lost, for instance, three principal feathers from the left
wing and not so many from the right, the wings would
be without equilibrium, and the bird would have no
proper control over itself or its movements. It would
be like a ship, the sails of which are too heavy on
one side and too light on the other."
" I see," returned Goethe, u we may penetrate into
nature on whatever side we please, and always come
to some wisdom."
»» % -*«_*•*-*
8 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
We were, meantime, continually going up-hill, and
were now on the edge of a pine wood. We came to
a place where some stones had been broken, and lay in
a heap. Goethe ordered the coachman to stop, and
begged me to alight and see if I could discover any
petrifactions. I found some shells, and also some
broken ammonites, which I handed to him when I
again took my seat. We drove on.
" Always the old story," said Goethe ; u always the
old bed of the sea ! When one looks down from
this height upon Weimar, and upon the numerous
villages around, it appears wonderful when one thinks
that there was a time when whales sported in the broad
valley below. And yet there was such a time — at least
it is highly probable. But the mew that flew over the
sea which then covered this mountain certainly never
thought that we two should drive here to-day. And
who knows whether, in some thousands of years,
the mew may not again fly over this mountain."
We were now upon the height, and drove quickly
along. On our right were oaks, beeches, and other
leafy trees : Weimar was behind us, but out of sight.
We had reached the western height j —the broad valley
of the Unstrut with many villages and small towns,
lay before us, in the clearest morning sun.
" This is a good resting-place," said Goethe, as he
ordered the coachman to stop. " I think we may
as well try how a little breakfast would suit us in
this good air."
We alighted, and walked up and down for a few
minutes upon the dry earth, at the foot of some half-
grown oaks, stunted by many storms, whilst Frederick
/
/
/
/
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 9
unpacked the breakfast we had brought with us, «and
spread it upon a turfy hillock. The view from this
spot, in the clear morning light of the autumn sun,
was truly magnificent. On the south and south-west,
we saw the whole range of the Thuringer-wald moun-
tains > on the west, beyond Erfurt, the towering Castle
Gotha and the Inselsberg ; farther north, the mountains
behind Langensalza and Mühlhausen, until the view was
bounded on the north by the blue Hartz Mountains. I
thought of the verses —
" Far, high, splendid the view,
Around into life !
From mountain to mountain,
Soars the eternal spirit,
Presaging endless life.*'
We seated ourselves with our backs against the
oak; so that, during breakfast, we had constantly
before us the extensive view over half Thüringia.
In the mean while we demolished a brace of roast
t
partridges, with new white bread, and drank a flask
of very good wine, out of a cup of pure gold which
Goethe always carried with him on such excursions
in a yellow leather case.
" I have very often been in this spot," said he,
" and of late years I have often thought it would
be the last time that I should look down hence on the
kingdoms of the world, and their glories ; but it has
happened still once again, and I hope that even this is
not the last time that we shall both spend a pleasant
day here. We will, for the future, often come hither.
One shrinks in the narrow confinement of the house.
Here one feels great and free, as the great nature
/
/
10 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
which one has before one's eyes, and as one ought,
properly, always to be."
" From this spot," continued Goethe, " I look
down upon many points which are bound up with
the richest recollections of a long life. What have
I not, in my youth, gone through yonder in the
mountains of Ilmenau ? Then, how many adven-
tures have I had down bdlow there, in dear Erfurt !
In early times, too, I often liked to be at Gotha \ but
for many years I have scarcely been there at all."
" Since I have been in Weimar," remarked I, " I
do not recollect you going there."
" There is a reason for that," returned Goethe,
laughing, " I am not in the best favour there. I
will tell you the story. When the mother of the
present ruler was in the bloom of youth, I was very
often there. I was sitting one evening alone with
her at the tea-table, when the two princes, of ten
and twelve years of age, two pretty, fair-haired boys,
burst in and came to the table. With great audacity,
I put a hand through the hair of each prince, with
the words — i Now^ you floury heads ^ what do you
want? 9 The boys stared in the greatest astonishment
at my boldness, and they have never forgotten the
affair ! I will not boast of it now ; but so it was,
and it lay deep in my nature. I never had much
respect for mere princely rank as such, when there
was not behind it sound human nature, and sound
human worth. Nay, I felt so satisfied with myself,
that if I had been made a prince I should not have
thought the change so very remarkable. When the
diploma of nobility was given me, many thought
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. II
that I should feel elevated by it; but, between our-
selves, it was nothing to me — really nothing! We
Frankfort patricians always considered ourselves equal
to the nobility; and when I held the diploma in my
hands I had nothing more, in my own opinion, than I
had possessed long ago."
We took another good draught from the golden cup,
and then drove round the northern side of the Etters-
berg to the Ettersburg hunting-lodge. Goethe had
all the chambers opened, which were hung with beau-
tiful tapestry and pictures. He told me that Schiller
had for some time inhabited the chamber at the western
angle of the first storey.
u In early times," continued he, " we have here
spent many a good day, and wasted many a good day.
We were all young and wanton : in the summer we
had impromptu comedies, and in the winter many a
dance and sledge-race by torch-light."
We returned into the open air, and Goethe led
me, in a westerly direction, along a footpath into the
wood.
" I will show you the beech," said he, " on which
we cut our names fifty years ago. But how it has
altered, and how everything has grown ! That must
be the tree ; you see that it is still in the fullest vigour.
Even our names are still to be traced ; but they are so
confused and distorted that they are scarcely to be
made out. This beech then stood upon a dry, open
spot. It was quite sunny and pleasant around it, and
here, in the beautiful summer evenings, we played our
impromptu forces. Now the spot is damp and cheer-
less. What were then only low bushes have now
12 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
grown up into shady trees, so that one can scarcely
distinguish in the thicket the magnificent beech of
one's youth."
We returned to the lodge, and after we had seen
the tolerably rich collection of arms, we drove back to
Weimar.
(Sup.) Thursday, September 27, 1827.
This afternoon spent a short time with Goethe, when
I made the acquaintance of Privy-councillor Streckfuss,
of Berlin, who had taken a drive with him in the fore-
noon, and had then stayed to dinner. When Streckfuss
went, I accompanied him, and took a walk through
the park. On my return across the market-place, I
met the Chancellor and Raupach, with whom I went
into the " Elephant." In the evening I returned to
Goethe, who talked with me about a new number of
" Kunst und Alterthum" (Art and Antiquity), and also
about a dozen pencil-drawings, in which the brothers
Riepenhausen endeavoured to represent the painting
of Polygnotus, in the Lesche at Delphi, according to
the description of Pausanias, an attempt which Goethe
could not sufficiently praise.
(Sup.) Monday, October 1, 1827.
At the theatre, " Das Bild" (the Picture), by Hou-
wald. I saw two acts, and then went to Goethe, who
read to me the second scene of his new Faust.
" In the emperor," said he, " I have endeavoured to
represent a prince who has all the necessary qualities
for losing his land, and at last succeeds in so doing.
" He does not concern himself about the welfare of his
kingdom and his subjects ; he only thinks of himself,
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 13
and how he can amuse himself from day to day with
something new* The land is without law and justice ;
the judge himself is on the side of the criminals ; the
most atrocious crimes are committed without check
and with impunity. The army is without pay, with-
out discipline, and roams about plundering, in order to
provide its own pay, and help itself as it can. The
state treasury is without money, and without hope of
replenishment. In the emperor's own household, things
are no better; there is scarcity both in kitchen and
cellar. The marshal, who cannot devise means how
to get on from day to day, is already in the hands of
usurious Jews, to whom everything is pawned, so that
bread already eaten comes to the emperor's table.
" The counsellor of state wishes to remonstrate with
his Majesty upon all these evils, and advises as to
their remedy ; but the gracious sovereign is very un-
willing to lend his sublime ear to anything so disagree-
able -, he prefers amusing himself. Here now is the
true element for Mephisto, who quickly supplants the
former fool, and is at once at the side of the emperor
as new fool and counsellor. n
Goethe read the scene and the interspersed murmur-
ing of the crowd excellently, and I had a very pleasant
evening.
(Sup.) Sunday, October 7, 1827.
This morning, the weather being very beautiful, I
found myself in the chariot with Goethe before eight
o'clock, and on the road to Jena, where he intended to
stay until the next evening.
Having arrived there early, we first called at the
botanical garden, where Goethe surveyed all the shrubs
14 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
and plants, and found them all thriving and in beautiful
order. We also looked over the mineralogical cabinets,
and some other collections of natural objects, and then
drove to Herr von KnebePs, who expected us to
dinner.
Knebel, who had attained a great age, almost stum-
bled towards Goethe at the door, to fold him in his arms.
At dinner all were very lively and hearty, although
there was no conversation of any importance. The
two old friends were quite enough occupied with the
pleasure of their friendly meeting. After dinner we
took a drive in a southerly direction, up the Saale. I
had known this charming region in earlier times, but
everything appeared as fresh as if I had never seen it
before.
When we returned into the streets of Jena, Goethe
gave orders to drive along a brook, and to stop at a
house the external appearance of which was not very
striking.
" This was the dwelling of Voss/' said he, " and I
will conduct you on this classic ground." We walked
through the house, and entered the garden. There were
but few traces of flowers and the finer species of culture $
we walked on the turf completely under fruit trees.
" This was something for Ernestine," said Goethe,
" who could not even here forget her excellent Eutiner
apples, which she praised to me as incomparable. But
they were the apples of her childhood, there was the
charm ! I have spent many pleasant evenings here
with Voss and his excellent Ernestine, and I still like
to think of the old time. Such a man as Voss will
not soon come again. There are few who have had
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, 15
such influence as he upon the higher German culture»
With him everything was sound and solid; and on
this account he had no artificial, but a purely natural
relation to the Greeks, which produced the noblest
fruits for us. One who is so penetrated with his
worth as I am scarcely knows how to honour his
memory sufficiently."
It was by this time about six o'clock, and Goethe
considered it time to go to our night quarters, which
he had bespoken at the " Bear."
We were accommodated with a roomy chamber,
together with an alcove containing two beds. The
sun had not long set — the evening light reposed upon
our windows, and it was pleasant to sit for some time
without a candle.
Goethe brought the conversation back to Voss.
u He was very valuable to me," said he, " and I
would willingly have retained him for the University
and myself; but the advantages offered from Heidel-
berg were too important for us, with our limited
means, to be able to outweigh them. I was obliged,
with mournful resignation, to let him go. It was,
however, fortunate for me at that time," continued
Goethe, "that I had Schiller; for, different as our
natures were, our tendencies were still towards one
point, which made our connection so intimate that
one really could not live without the other."
Goethe related me some anecdotes of his friend,
which appeared to me very characteristic.
" Schiller was, as you may imagine from his high
character," said he, "a decided enemy to all the
hollow reverence, and all the vain idolatry, which
l6 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
people paid him, or wished to pay him. When
Kotzebue proposed to get up a public demonstration
in his house, it was so distasteful to him that he
was almost ill with inward disgust. It was also re-
pulsive to him when a stranger was announced. If
he were hindered for a moment from seeing him,
and made an appointment for four o'clock in the
afternoon, it generally happened that at the appointed
hour he was ill from mere apprehension. On these
occasions he could now and then be very impatient,
and sometimes even rude. I was witness of his impe-
tuous conduct towards a foreign surgeon, who entered
unannounced to pay him a visit. The poor man, quite
put out of countenance, did not know how he could
retreat rapidly enough.
" However, as I have said, and as we all know,"
continued Goethe, c< we were, in spite of the simi-
larity of our tendencies, very different in our natures,
and that not merely in mental but also in physical
matters. An air that was beneficial to Schiller acted
on me like poison. I called on him one day, and
as I did not find him at home, and his wife told me
that he would soon return, I seated myself at his
work-table to note down various matters. I had not
been seated long before I felt a strange indisposition
steal over me, which gradually increased, until at
last I nearly fainted. At first I did not know to
what cause I should ascribe this wretched and, to
me, unusual state, until I discovered that a dreadful
odour issued from a drawer near me. When I opened
it, I found to my astonishment that it was full of
rotten apples. I immediately went to the window
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. IJ
and inhaled the fresh air, by which I felt myself
instantly restored. In the mean time his wife had
re-entered, and told me that the drawer was always
filled with rotten apples, because the scent was bene-
ficial to Schiller, and he could not live or work with-
out it."
" To-morrow morning," continued Goethe, " I will
also show you where Schiller lived in Jena."
In the mean time lights were brought in 5 we took
a little supper, and afterwards sat for a little time
engaged in various conversations and recollections.
I related to Goethe a wonderful dream of my boyish
years, which was literally fulfilled the next morning.
" I had," said I, " brought up three young linnets,
to which I devoted my whole heart, and which I loved
above all things. They flew freely about my chamber,
and came towards me and settled on my hand as soon
as I entered at the door. One day at noon, I had the
misfortune, that, on my entrance into the chamber,
one of the birds flew over me, out of the house — I
knew not whither. I sought it the whole afternoon,
on all the roofs, and was inconsolable when evening
came and I had discovered no traces of it. I went to
sleep with sad thoughts in my heart, and towards
morning I had the following dream: — Methought I
roamed about the neighbouring houses in search of my
lost bird. All at once I heard the sound of its voice,
and saw it behind the garden of our cottage, seated
upon the roof of a neighbour's house. I called to it,
and it approached me, moved its wings towards me as
if asking for food, but still it could not venture to fly
down to my hand. I ran quickly through our garden
vol. 11. c
^ 1
1 8 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827*
into my chamber, and returned with the cup of soaked
rape seed ; I held the favourite food towards it, and it
perched upon my hand, when, full of joy, I carried it
back into my chamber to the other two.
u With this dream I awoke ; and as it was then
broad daylight, I quickly put on my clothes, and with
the utmost haste ran down through our little garden to
the house where I had seen the bird. But how great
was my astonishment when the bird was really there !
Everything happened literally as I had seen it in the
dream. I called the bird, it approached, but it hesi-
tated to fly to my hand. I ran back and brought
the food, when it flew upon my hand, and I took it
back to the others."
"This boyish adventure of yours/* said Goethe,
" is certainly very remarkable. But there are many such
things in nature, though we have not the right key to
them. We all walk in mysteries. We are sur-
rounded by an atmosphere of which we do not know
what is stirring in it, or how it is connected with our
own spirit. So much is certain, — that in particular
cases we can put out the feelers of our soul beyond
its bodily limits, and that a presentiment, nay, an actual
insight into the immediate future, is accorded to it."
"I have lately experienced something similar," re-
turned I. "As I was returning from a walk along
the Erfurt road, about ten minutes before I reached
Weimar, I had the mental impression that a person
whom I had not seen, and of whom I had not
even thought for a length of time, would meet me
at the corner of the theatre. It troubled me to
think that this person might meet me, and great
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 19
was my surprise when, as I was about to turn the
corner, this very person actually met me, in the same
place which I had seen in my imagination ten minutes
before."
" That is also very wonderful, and more than
chance," returned Goethe. " As I said, we are all
groping among mysteries and wonders. Besides, one
soul may have a decided influence upon another,
merely by means of its silent presence, of which I
could relate many instances. It has often happened
to me that, when I have been walking with an
acquaintance, and have had a living image of some-
thing in my mind, he has at once begun to speak of
that very thing. I have also known a man who,
without saying a word, could suddenly silence a party
engaged in cheerful conversation, by the mere power
of his mind. Nay, he could also introduce a tone
which would make everybody feel uncomfortable.
We have all something of electrical and magnetic
forces within us, and we put forth, like the magnet
itself, an attractive or repulsive power, accordingly
as we come in contact with something similar or
dissimilar. It is possible, nay, even probable, that
if a young girl were, without knowing it, to find
herself in a dark chamber with a man who designed
to murder her, she would have an uneasy sense of
his unknown presence, and that an anguish would
come oyer her, which would drive her from the
room to the rest of the household."
"I know a scene in an opera," returned I, "in
which two lovers, who have long been separated by
a great distance, find themselves together in a dark
c 2
20 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l$2J.
room without knowing it; but they do not remain
long together before the magnetic power begins to
work; one feels the proximity of the other — they
are involuntarily attracted towards each other — and
it is not long before the young girl is clasped in the
arms of the youth."
" With lovers," answered Goethe, " this magnetic
power is particularly strong, and acts even at a distance.
In my younger days I have experienced cases enough,
when, during solitary walks, I have felt a great desire
for the company of a beloved girl, and have thought
of her till she has really come to meet me. c I was
so restless in my room,' she has said, ' that I could
not help coming here.'
" I recollect an instance during the first years of
my residence here, where I soon fell in love again.
I had taken a long journey, and had returned some
days ; but, being detained late at night by court affairs,
I had not been able to visit my mistress ; besides, our
mutual affection had already attracted attention, and
I was afraid to pay my visits by day, lest 1 should
increase the common talk. On the fourth or fifth
evening, however, I could resist no longer, and I was
on the road to her, and stood before her house, be-
fore I had thought of it. I went softly up-stairs, and
was upon the point of entering her room, when I
heard, by the different voices, that she was not alone.
I went down again unnoticed, and was quickly in
the dark streets, which at that time were not lighted.
In an impassioned and angry mood I roamed about
the town in all directions, for about an hour, and
passed the house once more, full of passionate thoughts
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 21
of my beloved. At last I was on the point of return-
ing to my solitary room, when I once more went past
her house, and remarked that she had no light. c She
must have gone out,* said I, to myself, * but whither,
in this dark night ? and where shall I meet her ? ' I
afterwards went through many streets — I met many
people, and was often deceived, inasmuch as I often
fancied I saw her form and size ; but, on nearer
approach invariably found that it was not she. I
then firmly believed in a strong mutual influence,
and that I could attract her to me by a strong desire.
I also believed myself surrounded by invisible beings of
a higher order, whom I entreated to direct her steps
to me, or mine to her. * But what a fool thou art ! 9
I then said to myself 5 c thou wilt not seek her and go
to her again, and yet thou desirest signs and wonders ! '
" In the mean time I had gone down the esplanade,
and had reached the small house in which Schiller
afterwards lived, when it occurred to me to turn back
towards the palace, and then go down a little street
to the right. I had scarcely taken a hundred steps
in this direction, when I saw a female form coming
towards me which perfectly resembled her I expected.
The street was faintly lighted by the weak rays which
now and then shone from a window, and since I
had been already often deceived in the course of the
evening with an apparent resemblance, I did not feel
courage to speak to her in doubt. We passed quite
close to each other, so that our arms touched. I
stood still and looked about me ; she did the same.
4 Is it you?' said she, and^I recognised her beloved
voice* ' At last ! ' said I, and was enraptured even
22 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
to tears. Our hands clasped each other. < Now/
said I, ( my hopes have not deceived me ; I have
sought you with the greatest eagerness; my feelings
told me that I should certainly find you ; now I am
happy, and I thank God that my forebodings have
proved true/ ' But, you wicked one ! ' said she, ' why
did you not come? I heard to-day, by chance, that
you had been back three days, and I have wept the
whole afternoon, because I thought you had forgotten
me. Then, an hour ago, I was seized with a longing
and uneasiness on your account, such as I cannot
describe. There were two female friends with me,
whose visit appeared interminable. At last, when they
were gone, I involuntarily seized my hat and cloak,
and was impelled to go out into the air and dark-
ness, I knew not whither 5 you were constantly in
my mind, and I could not help thinking that I should
meet you.' Whilst she thus spoke truly from her heart,
we still held each other's hands, and pressed them,
and gave each other to understand that absence had
not cooled our love. I accompanied her to her door,
and into the house. She went up the dark stairs be-
fore me, holding my hand and drawing me after her.
My happiness was indescribable; both because I at
last saw her again, and also because my belief had
not deceived me, and I had not been deluded in my
sense of an invisible influence."
Goethe was in a most amiable mood ; I could
have listened to him for hours; but he seemed to
be gradually growing tired, and so we very soon went
to bed in our alcove.
l827*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 23
(Sup.) Jena, Monday, October 8, 1827.
We arose early. Whilst we were dressing, Goethe
related to me a dream of the previous night, in which
he imagined himself at Göttingen, where he had
various pleasant conversations with the professors of
his acquaintance.
We drank a few cups of coffee, and then drove
to the building which contains a collection of natural
objects. We saw the anatomical cabinet, various
skeletons of animals, modern and primeval, as well
as skeletons of men of former ages, on which Goethe
remarked that their teeth showed them to have been
a very moral race. We then drove to the observa-
tory, where Doctor Schrön showed and explained
to us the most important instruments. We also
examined the adjacent meteorological cabinet with
great interest, and Goethe praised Dr. Schrön, on
account of the great order which prevailed in all these
things.
We then went down into the garden, where Goethe
had caused a little breakfast to be laid out upon a
stone table in an arbour. "You scarcely know,"
said Goethe, " in what a remarkable place we are now
seated. Here it was that Schiller dwelt. In this arbour,
upon these benches, which are now almost broken,
we have often sat, at this old stone table, and have
exchanged many good and great words. He was
then in the thirties, I in the forties ; both were full
of aspirations, and indeed it was something. Every-
thing passes away; I am no more what I was; but
the old earth still remains, and air, water, and land,
are still the same.
24 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
" Afterwards you shall go up-stairs with Schrön,
who will show you the room in the mansarde^ which
Schiller occupied."
In the mean time we relished our breakfast very
much in this pleasant air, and on this delightful spot.
Schiller was present, at least in our minds \ and Goethe
devoted to him many kind words of affectionate remem-
brance.
I then went with Schrön to the mansarde, and en-
joyed the magnificent prospect from Schiller's win-
dows. The direction was due south, so that one
might see the beautiful stream, interrupted by thickets
and windings, flowing along for miles. There was also
a wide expanse of sky. One could admirably observe
the rising and setting of the planets \ and it could not
be denied that this locality was very favourable for
the conception of the astronomical and astrological
part of Wallenstein.
I returned to Goethe, who drove to Hofrath Döber
reiner j whom he highly esteems, and who showed
him some new chemical experiments.
It was by this time noon. We were again seated
in the carriage.
"I think," said Goethe, "we will not return to
c The Bear/ to dinner; but will enjoy the splendid
day in the open air. I think we will go to Burgau.
We have wine with us, and, in any case, we shall
find there some good fish, which can be either boiled
or broiled."
We did so, and the plan proved splendid. We
drove along the bank of the Saale, by the thickets
and the windings, the pleasantest way, as I had
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 25
already seen from Schiller's mamarde. We were
soon in Burgau. We alighted at the little inn near
the river, and the bridge, where there is a crossing to
Lobeda, a little town which was close before our eyes
across the meadows.
At the little inn we found all as Goethe had said.
The hostess apologised for having nothing prepared ;
but said we should have some soup and some good fish.
In the mean time we walked in the sunshine, up
and down the bridge, amusing ourselves by looking
at the river, which was animated by raftmen, who,
upon planks of pine-wood bound together, glided
under the bridge from time to time, and were very
noisy and merry over their troublesome, wet occupa-
tion.
We ate our fish in the open air, and then remained
sitting over a little wine, and had all sorts of pleasant con-
versation. A small hawk flew past, which in its flight
and its form bore a strong resemblance to the cuckoo.
u There was a time," said Goethe, " when the
study of natural history was so much behind-hand that
the opinion was universally spread that the cuckoo was
a cuckoo only in summer, but in winter a bird of prey."
"This opinion still exists amongst the people,"
returned I. u And it is also laid to the charge of
this good bird, that as soon as it is full grown, it
devours its own parents. It is, therefore, used as
a simile of shameful ingratitude. I know people at
the present moment who will not allow themselves
to be talked out of these absurdities, and who cling
to them as firmly as to any article of their Christian
belief."
26 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
"As far as I know," said Goethe, "the cuckoo
is classed with the woodpecker."
" That is sometimes done," returned I, " probably
because two of the toes of its weak feet have a back-
ward inclination. I, however, should not so class it.
For the woodpecker's life it has neither the strong
beak, capable of breaking the decayed bark of a tree,
nor the sharp and very strong feathers in the tail,
which are fit to support it during the operation. Its
toes, also, want the sharp claws necessary to sustain
it ; and I, therefore, consider its small feet as not
actually, but only apparently, made for climbing."
u The ornithologists," added Goethe, " are probably
delighted when they have brought any peculiar bird
under some head j but still, nature carries on her own
free sport, without troubling herself with the classes
marked out by limited men."
" The nightingale, too," continued I, " is numbered
amongst the gras-mücken^ whilst in the energy of its
nature, its movements, and its mode of life, it bears
far more resemblance to the thrush. But still, I would
hot class it among the thrushes. It is a bird between
the two ; a bird by itself, as the cuckoo is a bird
by itself, with a strongly expressed individuality."
" All that I have heard concerning the cuckoo," said
Goethe, " excites in me a great interest in this wonderful
bird. It is of a highly problematical nature, a manifest
mystery, but not the less difficult to interpret because
it is so manifest. And with how many things do we
not find ourselves in the same predicament? We
stand in mere wonderment, and the best part of things
is closed to us. Let us take the bees. We see them
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 27
fly for miles after honey, and always in a different
direction. Now they fly westward for a week, to
a field of blooming rape-seed 5 then, for a long time,
northward, to a blooming heath ; then in another
direction to the blossom of the buckwheat; then
somewhere else, to a blooming clover-field ; and at
last, in some other direction, to a blossoming lime.
But who has said to them, ( Now fly thither, there is
something for you ? * and c now thither, there is some-
thing fresh ? ' And who has led them back to their
village and their cell? They go hither and thither,
as if in invisible leading-strings ; but what these really
are we do not know. It is the same with the lark.
She rises, singing, from a corn-field; she soars over
a sea of corn, which the wind blows backwards and
forwards, and in which one wave looks like the other ;
she then returns to her young, and drops down, with-
out fail, upon the little spot where her nest is placed.
All these outward things are as clear as the day to us ;
but their inward, spiritual tie is concealed."
u With the cuckoo," said I, <c it is not otherwise.
We know that it does not brood itself, but lays its
egg in the nest of some other bird. We know, fur-
thermore, that it lays it in the nest of the gras-mücke^
the yellow wagtail, the monk ; also in the nests of the
braunelle, the robb, and the wren. This we know.
We also know that these are all insect-eating birds ;
and must be so, because the cuckoo itself is an insect-
eating bird, and the young cuckoo cannot be brought
up by a seed-eating bird. But how does the cuckoo
find out that these are all actually insect-eating birds ?
For all the above-mentioned birds differ extremely from
3t8 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
each other, both in form and colour ; and also in their
song and their call-note. Further, how comes it that
the cuckoo can trust its egg and its tender young to
nests which are as different as possible with respect
to structure, temperature, dryness, and moisture ?
The nest of the gras-mucke is built so lightly, with
dry hay and horse-hair, that all cold penetrates into
it, and every breeze blows through it ; it is also open
at the top, and without shelter ; still, the young cuckoo
thrives in it excellently. The nest of the wren, on the
other hand, is on the outside built firmly and thickly,
with moss, straw, and leaves, and carefully lined within
with all sorts of wool and feathers ; so that not a
breeze can pierce through it. It is also covered at
the top, and arched over, only a small aperture
being left for the very small birds to slip in and out.
One would think that in the hot days of June, the
heat in such an enclosed hole must be suffocating ;
but the young cuckoo thrives there best. Then how
different is the nest of the yellow-wagtail. This bird
lives by the water, by brooks, and in various damp
places. It builds its nest upon damp commons, in
a tuft of rushes. It scrapes a hole in the moist earth,
and lines it scantily with some blades of grass, so that
the young cuckoo is hatched, and must grow up in the
damp and cold; and still it thrives excellently. But
what a bird this must be, to which, at the most tender
age, varieties of heat and cold, dryness and damp, which
would be fatal to any other bird, are indifferent. And
how does the old cuckoo know that they are so, when it
is so susceptible to damp and cold at an advanced age."
<c This is a mystery," returned Goethe j u but tell
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 29
me, if you have observed it, how the cuckoo places
its egg in the nest of the wren, when this has so
small an opening that she cannot enter, and sit
upon it."
" The cuckoo lays it upon a dry spot," returned I,
" and takes it to the nest with her beak. I believe,
too, that she does this not only with the wren's nest,
but with every other. For the nests of the other in-
sect-eating birds, even when they are open at the
top, are still so small or so closely surrounded by
twigs, that the great long-tailed cuckoo, cannot sit
upon them. This can well be imagined ; but how
it happens that the cuckoo lays so unusually small
an egg, nay, so small that it might be the egg
of a small insect-eating bird, is a new riddle
which one may silently admire without being able
to unravel. The egg of the cuckoo is only a little
larger than that of the gras-mücke ; and, indeed, it
ought not to be larger, as it has to be hatched by
the small insect-eating birds. This is good and
rational; but that nature, to be wise in a particular
instance, should deviate from a great pervading law,
according to which there exists a certain proportion
between the size of the egg and that of the bird,
from the humming-bird to the ostrich, this arbitrary
proceeding, I say, is enough to inspire us with astonish-
ment."
" It certainly astonishes us," said Goethe, " because
our point of view is too small for us to comprehend it.
If more were revealed to us, we should probably find
that these apparent deviations are really within the
compass of the law. But go on, and tell me something
30 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827
more. Is it known how many eggs the cuckoo
lays?"
c< Whoever tried to say anything definite on that
point would be a great blockhead. The bird is very
fleeting. She is now here, now there j there is never
more than one of her eggs found in a single nest. She
certainly lays several ; but who knows where these are,
and who could look for them ? But, supposing that she
lays five eggs, and that all these are properly hatched,
and brought up by affectionate foster-parents, we must
still wonder that nature can resolve to sacrifice at least
fifty of the young of our best singing birds for five
young cuckoos.
" In such things, as well as others," returned Goethe,
" nature does not appear to be very scrupulous. She
has a good fund of life to lavish, and she does so now
and then without much hesitation. But how does it
happen that so many young singing birds are lost for a
single young cuckoo ? "
" In the first place/ 9 1 replied, " the first brood is
generally lost ; for even if it should happen that the
eggs of the singing bird are hatched at the same time
with that of the cuckoo, which is very probable, the
parents are so much delighted with the larger bird, and
show it such fondness, that they think of and feed that
alone, whilst their own young are neglected, and vanish
from the nest. Besides, the young cuckoo is always
greedy, and demands as much nourishment as the little
insect-eating birds can procure. It is a very long time
before it attains its full size and plumage, and before it
is capable of leaving the nest, and soaring to the top of
a tree. And even long after it has flown, it requires
1827. ] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« 31
•
to be fed continually, so that the whole summer passes
away, while the affectionate foster-parents constantly
attend upon their great child, and do not think of a
second brood. It is on this account that a single young
cuckoo causes the loss of so many other young birds/ 9
" That is very convincing," said Goethe. " But
tell me, is the young cuckoo, as soon as it has flown,
fed also by other birds which have not hatched it ? I
fancy I have heard something of the kind/ 9
" It is so, 9 ' answered I. " As soon as the young
cuckoo has left its lower nest, and has taken its seat on
the top of a tall oak, it utters a loud sound, which
says that it is there. Then all the small birds in the
neighbourhood, which have heard it, come up to greet
it. The gras-mücke and the monk come, the yellow
wagtail flies up, and even the wren, whose nature it is
constantly to slip into low hedges and thick bushes,
conquers its nature, and rises towards the beloved
stranger to the top of the tall oak. But the pair which
has reared it is more constant with food, whilst the
rest only occasionally fly to it with a choice morsel. 99
" There also appears to he," said Goethe, " a great
affection between the young cuckoo and the small
insect-eating birds. 99
" The affection of the small insect-eating birds for
the young cuckoo, 99 returned I, " is so great, that if
one approaches a nest in which there is a young
cuckoo, the little foster-parents do not know how to
contain themselves for terror and anxiety. The monk
«specially expresses the deepest despair, and flutters on
the ground almost as if it were in convulsions. 99
"This is wonderful enough/ 9 returned Goethe;
3» CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1827.
" but it can be readily conceived. Still it appears very
problematical to me, that a pair of gras-mücken^ for in-
stance, on the point of hatching their own eggs, should
allow the old cuckoo to approach their nest, and lay
her egg in it."
" That is truly very enigmatical/ 9 returned 1 5 " but
not quite inexplicable. For, from the very circumstance
that all small insect-eating birds feed the cuckoo after it
has flown, and that even those feed it which did not
hatch it ; from this circumstance, I say, arises a sort of
affinity between the two, so that they continue to know
each other, and to consider each other members of
one large family. Indeed, it may happen that the same
cuckoo which was hatched and reared by a pair of
gras-miicken last year, may this year bring her egg to
them."
cc There is something in that," returned Goethe,
" little as one can comprehend it. But it still appears
to me a wonder, that the young cuckoo is fed by those
birds which have neither hatched it nor reared it."
" That is, indeed, a wonder," returned I ; " but
still it is not without analogy. I foresee, in this in-
clination, a great law which pervades all nature.
" I had once caught a young linnet, which was too
big to be fed by man, but still too young to eat by itself.
I took a great deal of trouble about it for half a day ;
but as it would not eat anything at all, I placed it
with an old linnet, a good singer, which I had kept for
some time in a cage, and which hung outside my win-
dow. I thought to myself, if the young bird sees how
the old one eats, perhaps it will go to its food and
imitate it. However, it did not do so, but opened its
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 33
beak towards the old one, and fluttered its wings, utter-
ing a beseeching cry \ whereupon the old linnet at once
took compassion on it, and adopting it as a child, fed it
as if it had been its own.
u Afterwards, some one brought me a grey gras-
mücke and three young ones, which I put together in a
large cage, and which the old one fed. On the follow-
ing day, some one brought me two young nightingales
already fledged, which I put in with the gras-mücke^ and
which the mother bird likewise adopted and fed. Some
days afterwards, I added a nest of young müllerchen
nearly fledged, and then a nest with five young platt-
manchen. The gras-mücke adopted all these and fed
them, and tended them like a true mother. She had
her beak always full of ant's eggs, and was now in one
corner of the roomy cage, and now in the other, so
that whenever a hungry throat opened, there she was.
Nay, still more. One of the young gras-mücken^ which
had grown up in the mean time, began to feed some
of the less ones. This was, indeed, done in rather a
playful, childish manner ; but still with a decided in-
clination to imitate the excellent mother."
" There is certainly something divine in this," said
Goethe, 4C which creates in me a pleasing sense of
wonder. If it were a fact that this feeding by
strangers was an universal law of nature, it would
unravel many enigmas, and one could say with cer-
tainty, that God pities the deserted young ravens that
call upon him."
" It certainly appears to be an universal law," re-
turned I ; " for I have observed this assistance in feed-
ing, and this pity for the forlorn, even in a wild state.
VOL. II. D
34 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« [iSlf.
C( Last summer, in the neighbourhood of Tiefurt, I
took two young wrens, which had probably only just
left their nest, for they sat upon a bush on a twig with
seven other young ones in a row, and the old bird was
feeding them. I put the young birds in my silk pocket-
handkerchief, and went towards Weimar, as far as the
shooting house ; I then turned to the right towards the
meadow, down along the Ilm, and passed the bathing-
place, and then again to the left to the little wood.
Here I thought I had a quiet spot to look once more
at the wrens* But when I opened my handkerchief
they both slipped out, and disappeared in the bushes
and grass, so that I sought them in vain. Three days
afterwards, I returned by chance to the same place,
and hearing the note of a robin, guessed there was a
nest in the neighbourhood, which, after looking about
for some time, I really found. But how great was my
astonishment, when I saw in this nest, besides some
young robins nearly fledged, my two young wrens,
which had established themselves very comfortably,
and allowed themselves to be fed by the old robins.
I was highly delighted at this very remarkable dis-
covery. Since you are so cunning, thought I to my-
self, and have managed to help yourselves so nicely,
and since the good robins have taken such care of you,
I should be very sorry to destroy this hospitable inti-
macy j on the contrary, I wish you the greatest possible
prosperity."
"That is one of the best ornithological stories I
have ever heard," said Goethe. "I drink success
to you, and good luck to your investigations. Who-
ever hears that, and does not believe in God, will not
1827.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« 35
be aided by Moses and the prophets. That is what I
call the omnipresence of the Deity, who has every*
where spread and implanted a portion of his endless
love, and has intimated even in the brute as a germ,
that which only blossoms to perfection in noble man.
Continue your observations and your studies ! You
appear to be particularly successful with them, and may
arrive at invaluable results."
Whilst we thus conversed on good and deep matters
over our dinner in the open air, the sun had declined
towards the summit of the western hills, and Goethe
thought it time to retrace our steps. We drove quickly
through Jena, and after we had settled our account at
c< The Bear," and had paid a short visit to Fromman,
we drove at a rapid rate to Weimar.
(Sup.) Thursday, October 18, 1827.
Hegel is here, whom Goethe personally esteems very
highly, though he does not much relish some of the
fruits produced by his philosophy. Goethe gave a tea-
party in honour of him this evening, at which Zelter
was also present, who intended to take his departure
again to-night.
A great deal was said about Hamann, with respect
to whom Hegel was chief spokesman, displaying a
deep insight into this extraordinary mind, such as could
only have arisen from a most earnest and scrupulous
study of the subject.
The discourse then turned upon the nature of dia-
lectics. <c They are, in fact," said Hegel, " nothing
more than the regulated, methodically-cultivated spirit
of contradiction which is innate in all men, and which
D 2
36 CONVERSATIONS OF. GOETHE. [1827.
shows itself great as a talent in the distinction between
the true and the false."
" Let us only hope," interposed Goethe, cc that these
intellectual arts and dexterities are not frequently mis-
used, and employed to make the false true, and the true
false."
" That certainly happens," returned Hegel ; " but
only with people who are mentally diseased."
" I therefore congratulate myself," said Goethe,
" upon the study of nature, which preserves me from
such a disease. For here we have to deal with the
infinitely and eternally true, which throws off as in-
capable every one who does not proceed purely and
honestly with the treatment and observation of his sub-
ject. I am also certain that many a dialectic disease
would find a wholesome remedy in the study of
nature."
We were still discoursing in the most cheerful man-
ner, when Zelter arose and went out, without saying a
word. We knew that it grieved him to take leave of
Goethe, and that he chose this delicate expedient for
avoiding a painful moment.
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE.
1828.
1828.
(Sup.) Tuesday, March II, 1828.
For several weeks I have not been quite well. I
sleep badly, and have the most harassing dreams from
night to morning, in which I see myself in the most
various states, carry on all sorts of conversation with
known and unknown persons, get into disputes and
quarrels, and all this in such a vivid manner, that I am
perfectly conscious of every particular next morning.
But this dreamy life consumes the powers of my brain,
so that I feel weak and unnerved in the day-time, and
without thought or pleasure for any intellectual activity.
I had frequently complained of my condition to
Goethe, and he had repeatedly urged me to consult my
physician. <c Your malady," said he, " is certainly not
very serious ; it is probably nothing but a little stag-
nation, which a glass or two of mineral water or a
little salts would remove. But do not let it linger any
longer ; attack it at once."
Goethe may have been right, and I said to myself
that he was right ; but my indecision and disinclination
operated in this case, so that I again allowed many rest-
less nights and wretched days to pass, without mak-
ing the least effort to remove the indisposition.
40 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
As I did not appear to Goethe very gay and cheer-
ful to-day after dinner, he lost his patience, and could
not refrain from smiling at me ironically, and bantering
me a little.
" You are a second Shandy," said he, " the father of
that renowned Tristram, who was annoyed half his life
by a creaking door, and who could not come to the re-
solution of removing the daily annoyance with a few
drops of oil.
" But so it is with us all ! The darkness and en-
lightenment of man make his destiny. The demon
ought to lead us every day in leading strings, and tell
us and direct us what we ought to do on every occa-
sion. But the good spirit leaves us in the lurch, and
we grope about in the dark.
" Napoleon was the man ! Always enlightened,
always clear and decided, and endowed at every hour
with sufficient energy to carry into effect whatever he
considered advantageous and necessary. His life was
the stride of a demi-god, from battle to battle, and from
victory to victory. It might well be said of him, that
he was found in a state of continual enlightenment.
On this account, his destiny was more brilliant than
any the world had seen before him, or perhaps will ever
see after him.
" Yes, yes, my good friend, that was a fellow whom
we cannot imitate."
Goethe paced up and down the room. I had placed
myself at the table, which had been already cleared, but
upon which there was left some wine with some bis-
cuits and fruit. Goethe filled for me, and compelled
me to partake of both. " You have, indeed," said he,
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 41
" not condescended to be our guest at dinner to-day,
but still a glass of this present from good friends ought
to do you good."
I did not refuse these good things, and Goethe con-
tinued to walk up and down the room, murmuring to
himself in an excited state of mind, and from time to
time uttering unintelligible words.
What he had just said about Napoleon was in my
mind, and I endeavoured to lead the conversation back
to that subject. " Still it appears to me," I began,
" that Napoleon was especially in that state of continued
enlightenment when he was young, and his powers
were yet on the increase, — when, indeed, we see at his
side divine protection and a constant fortune. In later
years, on the contrary, this enlightenment appears to have
forsaken him, as well as his fortune and his good star."
u What would you have ? " returned Goethe. " I
did not write my c love songs,' or my c Weither/ a
second time. That divine enlightenment, whence
everything proceeds, we shall always find in connec-
tion with youth and productiveness, as in the case of
Napoleon, who was one of the most productive men
that ever lived.
u Yes, yes, my good friend, one need not write
poems and plays to be productive ; there is also a pro-
ductiveness of deeds, which in many cases stands an
important degree higher. The physician himself must
be productive, if he really intends to heal ; if he is not
so, he will only succeed now and then, as if by chance s
but, on the whole, he will be only a bungler."
" You appear," added I, " in this case, to call pro-
ductiveness that which is usually called genius."
42 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
c< One lies very near the other," returned Goethe.
" For what is genius but that productive power by which
deeds arise that can display themselves before God and
nature, and are therefore permanent, and produce re-
sults. All Mozart's works are of this kind ; there lies
in them a productive power which operates upon gene-
ration after generation, and still is not wasted or con-
sumed.
" It is the same with other great composers and
artists. What an influence have Phidias and Raphael
had upon succeeding centuries, and Dürer and Holbein
also. He who first invented the forms and proportions
of the old German architecture, so that in the course
of time a Strasburg minster and a cathedral of Cologne
were possible, was also a genius ; for his thoughts have
a power continually productive, and operate even to
the present hour. Luther was a genius of a very im-
portant kind ; he has already gone on with influence for
many a long day, and we cannot count the days when
he will cease to be productive in future ages. Lessing
would not allow himself the lofty title of a genius ;
but his permanent influence bears witness against him.
On the other hand, we have, in literature, other names,
and those of importance, the possessors of which,
whilst they lived, were deemed great geniuses, but
whose influence ended with their life, and who were
therefore less than they and others thought. For, as
I said before, there is no genius without a productive
power of permanent influence ; and furthermore, genius
does not depend upon the business, the art, or the trade
which one follows, but may be alike in all. Whether
one shows oneself a man of genius in science, like
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 43
Oken and Humboldt, or in war and statesmanship, like
Frederick, Peter the Great, and Napoleon, or whether
one composes a song like Beranger, it all comes to the
same thing; the only point is, whether the thought,
the discovery, the deed, is living and can live on«
" Then I must add, it is not the mass of creations
and deeds which proceed from a person, that indicates
the productive man. We have, in literature, poets
who are considered very productive, because volume
after volume of their poems has appeared« - But, in my
opinion, these people ought to be called thoroughly un-
productive ; for what they have written is without life
and durability. Goldsmith, on the contrary, has written
so few poems that their number is not worth mention-
ing ; but, nevertheless, I must pronounce him to be a
thoroughly productive poet, and, indeed, even on that
account, because the little that he has written has an
inherent life which can sustain itself."
A pause ensued, during which Goethe continued to
pace up and down the room. In the mean time, I was
desirous of hearing something more on this weighty
point, and therefore endeavoured to arouse Goethe
once more,
" Does this productiveness of genius," said I, " lie
merely in the mind of an important man, or does it also
lie in the body ? "
" The body has, at least," said Goethe, <c the great-
est influence upon it. There was indeed a time when,
in Germany, a genius was always thought of as short,
weak, or hunch-backed ; but commend me to a genius
who has a well-proportioned body.
" When it was said of Napoleon that he was a man
44 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
of granite, this applied particularly to his body. What
was it, then, which he could not and did not venture ?
From the burning sands of the Syrian deserts, to the
snowy plains of Moscow, what an incalculable amount
of marches, battles, and nightly bivouacs did he go
through ? And what fatigues and bodily privations was
he forced to endure ? Little sleep, little nourishment,
and yet always in the highest mental activity. After
the awful exertion and excitement of the eighteenth
Brumaire, it was midnight, and he had not tasted any-
thing during the whole day, and yet without thinking
of strengthening his body, he felt power enough in the
depth of the night to draw up the well-known pro-
clamation to the French people. When one considers
what he accomplished and endured, one might imagine
that when he was in, his fortieth year not a sound par-
ticle was left in him ; but even at that age he still
occupied the position of a perfect hero.
u But you are quite right j the real focus of his
lustre belongs to his youth. And it is something
to say that one of obscure origin, and at a time which
set all capacities in motion, so distinguished himself
as to become, in his seven-and-twentieth year, the
idol of a nation of thirty millions ! Yes, yes, my
good friend, one must be young to do great things.
And Napoleon is not the only one ! "
" His brother Lucien," remarked I, " also did a
great deal at an early age. We see him as president
of the five hundred, and afterwards as minister of
the interior, when he had scarcely completed his five-
and-twentieth year."
" Why name Lucien ? " interposed Goethe. " His-
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 45
tory presents to us hundreds of clever people, who,
whilst still young, have, both in the cabinet and in the
field, superintended the most important matters with
great renown,
" If I were a prince," continued he, with animation,
" I would never place in the highest offices, people
who have gradually risen by mere birth and seniority,
and who in their old age move on leisurely in their
accustomed track, for in this way but little talent is
brought to light. I would have young men ; but they
must have capacities, and be endowed with clearness
and energy, and also with the best will and the noblest
character. Then there would be pleasure in governing
and improving one's people. But where is there a
prince who would like this, and who would be so well
served ?
" I have great hopes of the present Crown Prince
of Prussia. From all that I hear and know of
him, he is a very distinguished man; and this is
essential to recognise and choose qualified and clever
people. For, say what we will, like can only be
recognised by like; and only a prince who himself
possesses great abilities can properly acknowledge and
value great abilities in his subjects and servants.
* Let the path be open to talent 9 was the well-known
maxim of Napoleon, who really had a particular tact
in the choice of his people, who knew how to place
every important power where it appeared in its proper
sphere, and who, therefore, during his life-time, was
served in all his great undertakings as scarcely any
one was served before him/'
Goethe delighted me particularly this evening. The
46 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
noblest part of his nature appeared alive in him, while
the sound of his voice and the fire of his eyes were of
such power, as if he were inspired by a fresh gleam of
the best days of youth.
It was remakable to me that he, who at so great an
age himself superintended an important post, should
speak so decidedly in favour of youth, and should
desire the first offices in the state to be filled, if not by
youths, at least by men still young. I could not forbear
mentioning some Germans of high standing, who at an
advanced age did not appear to want the necessary
energy and youthful activity for the direction of the
most important and most various affairs.
" Such men are natural geniuses," returned Goethe,
" whose case is peculiar ; they experience a renewed
puberty, whilst other people are young but once.
" Every Entelechia* is a piece of eternity, and the
few years during which it is bound to the earthly body
does not make it old. If this Entelechia is of a trivial
kind, it will exercise but little sway during its bodily
confinement ; on the contrary, the body will predo-
minate, and when this grows old the Entelechia will
not hold and restrain it. But if the Entelechia is of a
powerful kind, as is the case with all men of natural
genius, then with its animating penetration of the body
it will not only act with strengthening and ennobling
power upon the organization, but it will also endeavour
with its spiritual superiority to confer the privilege of
perpetual youth. Thence it comes that in men of
* If for this Aristotelian word the reader substitutes the popular expres-
sion " soul," he will not go far wrong as far as this passage is concerned.—
'Trans,
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 47
superior endowments, even during their old age, we
constantly perceive fresh epochs of singular productive-
ness ; they seem constantly to grow young again for a
time, and that is what I call a repeated puberty. Still
youth is youth, and however powerful an Entelechia
may prove, it will never become quite master of the
corporeal, and it makes a wonderful difference whether
it finds in the body an ally or an adversary.
" There was a time in my life when I had to furnish
a printed sheet every day, and I accomplished it with
facility. I wrote my " Geschwister" (Brother and
Sister) in three days ; my " Clavigo," as you know,
in a week. Now it seems I can do nothing of the
kind, and still I can by no means complain of want of
productiveness even at my advanced age. But whereas
in my youth I succeeded daily and under all circum-
stances, I now succeed only periodically and under
certain favourable conditions. When ten or twelve
years ago, in the happy time after the war of indepen-
dence, the poems of the "Divan" had me in their
power, I was often productive enough to compose two
or three in a day, and it was all the same to me whether
I was in the open air, in the chariot, or in an inn.
Now, I can only work at the second part of my
" Faust " during the early part of the day, when I feel
refreshed and revived by sleep, and have not been per-
plexed by the trifles of daily life. And after all, what is
it I achieve? Under the most favourable circum-
stances, a page of writing, but generally only so much
as one could write in the space of a hand-breadth,
and often, when in an unproductive humour, still less."
" Are there, then, no means/ 9 said I, " to call forth
H
48 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
a productive mood, or, if it is not powerful enough, of
increasing it ? "
" That is a curious point," said Goethe, " and a
great deal might be thought and talked about it.
" No productiveness of the highest kind, no remark-
able discovery, no great thought which bears fruit and
has results, is in the power of any onej but such
things are elevated above all earthly control. Man
must consider them as an unexpected gift from above,
as pure children of God, which he must receive and
venerate with joyful thanks. They are akin to the
demon, which does with him what it pleases, and to
which he unconsciously resigns himself, whilst he
believes he is acting from his own impulse. In such
cases, man may often be considered as an instrument
in a higher government of the world, — as a vessel found
worthy for the reception of a divine influence. I say
this, whilst I consider how often a single thought has
given a different form to whole centuries, and how in-
dividual men have, by their expressions, imprinted a
stamp upon their age, which has remained unefFaced,
and has operated beneficially upon succeeding genera-
tions.
" There is, however, a productiveness of another
kind subjected to earthly influences, and which man
has more in his power, although he here also finds
cause to bow before something divine. Under this
category I place all that appertains to the execution of
a plan, all the links of a chain of thought, the ends of
which already shine forth ; I also place there all that
constitutes the visible body of a work of art.
" Thus, Shakspeare was inspired with the first
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 49
thought of his Hamlet, when the spirit of the whole
presented itself to his mind as an unexpected impres-
sion, and he surveyed the several situations, characters,
and conclusion, in an elevated mood, as a pure gift
from above, on which he had no immediate influence,
although the possibility of conceiving such a thought
certainly presupposed a mind such as his. But the in-
dividual scenes, and the dialogue of the characters, he had
completely in his power, so that he might produce them
daily and hourly, and work at them for weeks if he
liked. . And, indeed, we see in all that he has achieved,
constantly the same power of production ; and in all
his plays, we never come to a passage of which it could
be said * this was not written in the proper humour,
or with the most perfect faculty/ Whilst we read
him, we receive the impression of a man thoroughly
strong and healthy, both in mind and body.
" Supposing, however, that the bodily constitution
of a dramatic poet were not so strong and excellent,
and that he were, on the contrary, subject to frequent
illness and weakness, the productiveness necessary for
the daily construction of his scenes would very fre-
quently cease, and would often fail him for whole days.
If now, by some spirituous drink, he tried to force his
failing productiveness, and supply its deficiencies, the
method would certainly answer, but it would be dis-
coverable in all the scenes which he had written under
such an influence, to their great disadvantage. My
counsel is, therefore, to force nothing, and rather to
trifle and sleep away all unproductive days and hours,
than on such days to compose something which will
afterwards give one no pleasure."
VOL. 11. E
50 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
" You express," returned I, " what I myself have
very often experienced and felt, and what one must
respect as thoroughly true and just. But still it ap-
pears to me that a person might, by natural means,
heighten his productive mood, without exactly forcing
it. It has often been the case in my life to be unable
to arrive at any right conclusion in certain complicated
circumstances. But if, in such a case, I have drunk
a few glasses of wine, I have at once seen clearly what
was to be done, and have come to a resolution on
the spot. The adoption of a resolution is, after all, a
species of productiveness, and if a glass or two of wine
will bring about this good effect, such means are surely
not to be rejected altogether."
"I will not contradict your remark," returned
Goethe ; " but what I said before is also correct, by
which you see that truth may be compared to a dia-
mond, the rays of which dart not to one side, but to
many. Since you know my c Divan* so well, you
know also that I myself have said : —
When we have drunk
We know what 's right ;
and therefore that I perfectly agree with you. Pro-
ductive-making powers of a very important kind cer-
tainly are contained in wine ; but still, all depends upon
time and circumstances, and what is useful to one is
prejudicial to another. Productive-making powers are
also contained in sleep and repose ; but they are also
contained in movement. Such powers lie in the
water, and particularly in the atmosphere. The fresh
air of the open country is the proper place to which
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 5 1
we belong j it is as if the breath of God were there
wafted immediately to men, and a divine power exerted
its influence. Lord Byron, who daily passed several
hours in the open air, now riding on horseback along
the sea-shore, now sailing or rowing in a boat, now
bathing in the sea, and exercising his physical powers
in swimming, was one of the most productive men
who ever lived."
Goethe had seated himself opposite to me, and we
spoke about all sorts of subjects. Then we again
dwelt upon Lord Byron, and touched upon the many
misfortunes which had embittered his later life, until
at last a noble will, but an unhappy destiny, drove him
into Greece, and entirely destroyed him.
u You will generally find," continued Goethe, " that
in his middle age a man frequently experiences a
change ; and that, while in his youth everything has
favoured him, and has prospered with him, all is now
completely reversed, and misfortunes and disasters are
heaped one upon another.
" But do you know my opinion on this matter ?
Man must be ruined again ! Every extraordinary man
has a certain mission which he is called upon to accom-
plish. If he has fulfilled it, he is no longer needed
upon earth in the same form, and Providence uses him
for something else. But as everything here below
happens in a natural way, the demons keep tripping
him up till he falls at last. Thus it was with
Napoleon and many others. Mozart died in his six-
and-thirtieth year. Raphael at the same age. Byron
only a little older. But all these had perfectly fulfilled
their missions, and it was time for them to depart, that
E 2
52 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
other people might still have something to do in a
world made to last a long while."
It was now late ; Goethe gave me his dear hand,
and I departed.
(Sup.) Wednesday, March 12, 1828.
After I had quitted Goethe yesterday evening, the
important conversation I had carried on with him re-
mained constantly in my mind. The discourse had
also been upon the sea and sea air ; and Goethe had
expressed the opinion, that he considered all islanders
and inhabitants of the sea-shore in temperate climates
far more productive, and possessed of more active force,
than the people in the interior of large continents.
Whether or not it was that I had fallen asleep with
these thoughts, and with a certain longing for the in-
spiring powers of the sea ; suffice it to say, I had in
the night the following pleasant, and to me very re-
markable dream : —
I saw myself in an unknown region, amongst
strange men, thoroughly cheerful and happy. The
most beautiful summer day surrounded me in a charm-
ing scene, such as might be witnessed somewhere on
the shores of the Mediterranean, in the south of Spain
or France, or in the neighbourhood of Genoa. We
had been drinking at noon round a merry table, and 1
went with some others, rather young people, to make
another party for the afternoon.
We had loitered along through bushy and pleasant
low lands, when we suddenly found ourselves in the
sea, upon the smallest of islands, on a jutting rock,
where there was scarcely room for five or six men, and
where one could not stir for fear of slipping into the
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 53
water. Behind us, whence we had come, there was
nothing to be seen but sea ; but before us lay the shore
at about a quarter of an hour's distance, spread out
most invitingly. The shore was in some places flat,
in others rocky and somewhat elevated ; and one might
observe, between green leaves and white tents, a crowd
of joyous men in light-coloured clothes, recreating
themselves with music, which sounded from the tents.
" There is nothing else to be done," said one of
us to the other« " we must undress and swim over."
u It is all very well to say so," said I, " you are young,
handsome fellows, and good swimmers; but I swim
badly, and I do not possess a shape fine enough to ap-
pear, with pleasure and comfort, before the strange
people on shore." " You are a fool," said one of the
handsomest, " undress yourself, give me your form
and you shall have mine." At these words I undressed
myself quickly, and was soon in the water, and imme-
diately found myself in the body of the other as a
powerful swimmer. I soon reached the shore, and,
naked and dripping, stepped with the most easy con-
fidence amongst the men. I was happy in the sen-
sation of these fine limbs ; my deportment was uncon-
strained, and I at once became intimate with the
strangers, at a table before an arbour, where there
was a great deal of mirth. My comrades had now
reached land one by one, and had joined us, and the
only one missing was the youth with my form, in
whose limbs I found myself so comfortable. At last
he also approached the shore, and I was asked if I
was not glad to see my former self? At these words
1 experienced a certain discomfort, partly because I did
54 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
not expect any great joy from myself, and partly because
I feared that my young friend would ask for his own
body back again. However, I turned to the water,
and saw my second self swimming close up to me, and
laughing at me with his head turned a little on one side.
u There is no swimming with those limbs of yours,"
exclaimed he, " I have had a fine struggle against waves
and breakers, and it is not to be wondered at that I
have come so late, and am last of all." I at once re-
cognised the countenance ; it was my own, but grown
young, and rather fuller and broader, with the freshest
complexion. He now came to land, and whilst he raised
himself, and first stepped along the sand, I had a view
of his back and legs, and was delighted with the per-
fection of the form. He came up the rocky shore to
us, and as he came up to me he had completely my
new stature. <c How is it," thought I to myself, " that
your little body has grown so handsome. Have the
primeval powers of the sea operated so wonderfully
upon it, or is it because the youthful spirit of my friend
has penetrated the limbs ? " Whilst we enjoyed our-
selves together for some time, I silently wondered that
my friend did not show any inclination to resume his
own body. " Truly," thought I, " he looks bravely,
and it may be a matter of indifference to him in which
body he is placed, but it is not the same thing to me ;
for I am not sure whether in that body I may not
shrink and become as diminutive as before." In order
to satisfy myself on this point, I took my friend aside,
and asked him how he felt in my limbs ? " Perfectly
well," said he ; " I have the same sensation of my own
natural power as before; I do not know what you
1828.] COM VERS ATIONS OF GOETHE. 55
have to complain of in your limbs. They are quite
right with me ; and you see one only has to make the
best of oneself. Remain in my body as long as you
please ; for I am perfectly contented to remain in yours
through all futurity. ,, I was much pleased by this ex-
planation, and as in all my sensations, thoughts, and
recollections, I felt quite as usual, my dream gave me
the impression of a perfect independence of the soul,
and the possibility of a future existence in another
body.
" That is a very pretty dream," said Goethe, when,
after dinner to-day, I imparted to him the principal
features. " We see," continued he, a that the muses
visit you even in sleep, and, indeed, with particular
favour ; for you must confess that it would be difficult
for you to invent anything so peculiar and pretty in
your waking moments."
" I can scarcely conceive how it happened to me,"
returned I ; u for I had felt so dejected all day that
the contemplation of so fresh a life was far from my
mind."
u Human nature possesses wonderful powers," re-
turned Goethe, " and has something good in readiness
for us when we least hope for it. There have been
times in my life when I have fallen asleep in tears;
but in my dreams the most charming forms have come
to console and to cheer me, and I have risen the next
morning fresh and joyful.
u There is something more or less wrong among
us old Europeans ; our relations are far too artifi-
cial and complicated, our nutriment and mode of life
are without their proper nature, and our social inter-
56 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
course is without proper love and good will. Every
one is polished and courteous j but no one has the
courage to be hearty and true, so that an honest man,
with natural views and feelings, stands in a very bad
position. Often one cannot help wishing that one
had been born upon one of the South Sea Islands, a so-
called savage, so as to have thoroughly enjoyed human
existence in all its purity, without any adulteration.
" If in a depressed mood one reflects deeply upon the
wretchedness of our age, it often occurs to one that the
world is gradually approaching the last day. And the
evil accumulates from generation to generation ! For
it is not enough that we have to suffer for the sins of
our fathers, but we hand down to posterity these in-
herited vices increased by our own."
" Similar thoughts often occur to me," answered I ;
" but if, at such a time, I see a regiment of German
dragoons ride by me, and observe the beauty and power
of these young people, I again derive some consolation,
and say to myself, that the durability of mankind is after
all not in such a desperate plight."
<c Our country people," returned Goethe, u have
certainly kept up their strength, and will, I hope, long
be able not only to furnish us with good horsemen,
but also to secure us from total decay and destruction.
The rural population may be regarded as a magazine,
from which the forces of declining mankind are always
recruited and refreshed. But just go into our great
towns, and you will feel quite differently. Just take
a turn by the side of a second diable boiteux y or a
physician with a large practice, and he will whisper to
you tales which will horrify you at the misery, and
l828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 57
astonish you at the vice with which human nature is
visited, and from which society suffers.
" But let us banish these hypochondriacal thoughts.
How are you going on ? What are you doing ? What
else have you seen to-day ? Tell me, and inspire me
with good thoughts."
" I have been reading Sterne/' returned I, " where
Yorick is sauntering about the streets of Paris, and
makes the remark that every tenth man is a dwarf.
I thought of that when you mentioned the vices of
great towns. I also remember to have seen, in
Napoleon's time, among the French infantry, one bat-
talion which consisted entirely of Parisians, who were
all such puny, diminutive people, that one could not
comprehend what could be done with them in battle."
" The Scotch Highlanders under the Duke of Wel-
lington," rejoined Goethe, " were doubtless heroes of
another description."
" I saw them in Brussels a year before the battle of
Waterloo," returned I. " They were, indeed, fine
men; all strong, fresh, and active, as if just from
the hand of their Maker. They all carried their heads
so freely and gallantly, and stepped so lightly along with
their strong bare legs, that it seemed as if there were
no original sin, and no ancestral failing, as far as they
were concerned."
" There is something peculiar in this," said Goethe.
u Whether it lies in the race, in the soil, in the free
political constitution, or in the healthy tone of education,
— certainly, the English in general appear to have cer-
tain advantages over many others. Here in Weimar, we
see only a few of them, and, probably, by no means the
58 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
best ; but what fine, handsome people they are. And
however young they come here, they feel themselves
by no means strange or embarrassed in this foreign
atmosphere ; on the contrary, their deportment in
society is as full of confidence, and as easy, as if they
were lords everywhere, and the whole world belonged
to them. This it is which pleases our women, and
by which they make such havoc in the hearts of our
young ladies. As a German father of a family, who is
concerned for the tranquillity of his household, I often
feel a slight shudder, when my daughter-in-law an-
nounces to me the expected arrival of some fresh,
young islander. I already see in my mind's eye, the
tears which will one day flow when he takes his de-
parture. They are dangerous young people ; but this
very quality of being dangerous is their virtue."
" Still, I would not assert," answered I, " that the
young Englishmen in Weimar are more clever, more
intelligent, better informed, or more excellent at heart
than other people."
" The secret does not lie in these things, my good
friend," returned Goethe. " Neither does it lie in
birth and riches ; it lies in the courage which they
have to be that for which nature has made them.
There is nothing vitiated or spoilt about them, there
is nothing half-way or crooked ; but such as they are,
they are thoroughly complete men. That they are
also sometimes complete fools, I allow with all my
heart ; but that is still something, and has still always
some weight in the scale of nature.
" The happiness of personal freedom, the conscious-
ness of an English name, and of the importance at-
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 59
tached to it by other nations, is an advantage even to
the children ; for in their own family, as well as in
scholastic establishments, they are treated with far
more respect, and enjoy a for freer development, than
is the case with us Germans.
" In our own dear Weimar, I need only look out at the
window to discover how matters stand with us. Lately,
when the snow was lying upon the ground, and my
neighbour's children were trying their little sledges in
the street, the police was immediately at hand, and I
saw the poor little things fly as quickly as they could.
Now, when the spring sun tempts them from the
houses, and they would like to play with their com-
panions before the door, I see them always constrained,
as if they were not safe, and feared the approach of
some despot of the police. Not a boy may crack a
whip, or sing or shout; the police is immediately at
hand to forbid it. This has the effect with us all
of taming youth prematurely, and of driving out all
originality and all wildness, so that in the end nothing
remains but the Philistine.
" You know that scarcely a day passes in which I
am not visited by some travelling foreigner. But if I
were to say that I took great pleasure, in the personal
appearance, especially of young, learned Germans from
a certain north-eastern quarter, I should tell a false-
hood.
<c Short-sighted, pale, narrow-chested, young with-
out youth ; that is a picture of most of them as they
appear to me. And if I enter into a conversation with
any of them, I immediately observe that the things
in which one of us takes pleasure seem to them vain
60 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
and trivial, that they are entirely absorbed in the Idea,
and that only the highest problems of speculation are
fitted to interest them. Of sound senses or delight in
the sensual, there is no trace ; all youthful feeling and
all youthful pleasure are driven out of them, and that
irrecoverably ; for if a man is not young in his twentieth
year, how can he be so in his fortieth ?"
Goethe sighed and was silent.
I thought of the happy time in the last century,
in which Goethe's youth fell j the summer air of
Seesenheim passed before my soul, and I reminded
him of the verses, —
In the afternoon we sat,
Young people, in the cool.
cc Ah," sighed Goethe, " those were, indeed, happy
times. But we will drive them from our minds, that
the dark foggy days of the present may not become
quite insupportable."
u A second Redeemer," said I, " would be required
to remove from us the seriousness, the discomfort, and
the monstrous oppressiveness of the present state of
things."
u If he came," answered Goethe, " he would be
crucified a second time. Still, we by no means need
anything so great. If we could only alter the Germans
after the model of the English, if we could only have
less philosophy and more power of action, less theory
and more practice, we might obtain a good share of re-
demption, without waiting for the personal majesty of a
second Christ. Much may be done from below by the
people by means of schools and domestic education ;
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 6 1
much from above by the rulers and those in immediate
connection with them.
"Thus, for instance, I cannot approve the requi-
sition, in the studies of future statesmen, of so much
theoretically-learned knowledge, by which young people
are ruined before their time, both in mind and body.
When they enter into practical service, they possess,
indeed, an immense stock of philosophical and learned
matters j but in the narrow circle of their calling, this
cannot be practically applied, and must therefore be
forgotten as useless. On the other hand, what they
most needed they have lost ; they are deficient in the
necessary mental and bodily energy, which i6 quite
indispensable when one would enter properly into
practical life.
" And then, are not love and benevolence also needed
in the life of a statesman, 4 — in the management of men ?
And how can any one feel and exercise benevolence
towards another, when he is ill at ease with himself.
" But all these people are in a dreadfully bad case.
The third part of the learned men and statesmen,
shackled to the desk are ruined in body, and con-
signed/ to the demon of hypochondria. Here there
should be action from above, that future generations
may at least be preserved from a like destruction.
u In the mean time," continued Goethe, smiling,
" let us remain in a state of hopeful expectation as to
the condition of us Germans a century hence, and
whether we shall then have advanced so far as to be
no longer savants and philosophers, but men."
62 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
(Sup.*) Friday, May 16, 1828.
I took a drive with Goethe. He amused himself
with recollections of his disputes with Kotzebue and
Co., and recited some very lively epigrams against the
former, which were certainly more jocular than cutting.
I asked him why he had not included them in his works.
" I have a whole collection of such little poems,"
returned Goethe, " which I keep secret, and only show
occasionally to my most intimate friends. This was
the only innocent weapon which I had at command
against the attacks of my enemies. I thus quietly
found a vent by which I freed and purified myself from
the horrid feeling of malevolence which I must other-
wise have felt and fostered against the public and often
malicious cavillings of my opponents. I have, there-
fore, by these little poems done myself an essential
and personal service ; but I do not want to occupy the
public with my private squabbles, or to injure any
living person. In later times, some of these things may
be brought out without hesitation."
(Sup.*) Friday, June 6, 1828.
The King of Bavaria, some time ago, sent his court
painter, Stieler, to Weimar, in order to take Goethe's
portrait. Stieler brought with him, as a sort of letter
of introduction, and as a proof of his skill, a finished
portrait, the size of life, of a very beautiful young lady,
namely, the young Munich actress, Fräulein von Hagen.
Goethe gave Stieler all the necessary sittings, and his
portrait had now been finished for some days.
To-day, I dined with him alone. At dessert he rose,
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 63
and conducting me into the cabinet adjoining the dining-
room, showed me Stieler's newly completed work.
Then, very cautiously, he led me further on into the
so-called Majolika chamber, where we saw the portrait
of the beautiful actress. u That is worth something,"
said he, after we had observed it for some time, " is it
not ? Stieler was no fool. He employed this beau-
tiful morsel as a bait for me, and whilst by such arts
he induced me to sit, he flattered me with the hope that,
under his pencil, another angel would appear, whilst he
was only painting the head of an old man."
Sunday, June 15, 1828.
We had not been long at table before Herr Seidel
was announced, accompanied by the Tyrolese. The
singers remained in the garden-room, so that we could
see them perfectly through the open doors, and their
song was heard to advantage from that distance. Herr
Seidel sat down with us. These songs and the Gejo-
del* of the cheerful Tyrolese, with their peculiar
burden, delighted us young people. Fräulein Ulrica
and I were particularly pleased with the " Strauss,"
and " Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen," and asked for a
copy of them. Goethe seemed by no means so much
delighted as we.
u One must ask children and birds," said he, " how
cherries and strawberries taste."
Between the songs the Tyrolese played various
national dances, on a sort of horizontal guitar, accom-
panied by a clear-toned German flute.
Young Goethe was called out, but soon returned and
* The peculiar Tyrolese burden.-— Trans.
•■^ TPPf^J-
64 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
dismissed the Tyrolese. He sat down with us again.
We talked of " Oberon," and the great concourse of
people who had come together from all quarters to
see that opera ; so that even at noon there were no
more tickets to be got. Young Goethe proposed that
we should leave the table.
" Dear father," said he, " our friends will wish to
go somewhat earlier to the theatre this evening."
Goethe thought such haste very odd, as it was
scarcely four o'clock ; however, he made no opposition,
and we dispersed through the apartments. Seidel came
to me and some others, and said softly, and with a
troubled brow,
a You need anticipate no pleasure at the theatre ;
there will be no performance ; the Grand Duke is
dead ; he died on his journey hither from Berlin."
A general shock went through the company. Goethe
came in ; we went on as if nothing had happened, and
talked of indifferent things. Goethe called me to the
window, and talked about the Tyrolese and the theatre.
" You have my box to-day," said he, " and need not
go till six ; stay after the others, that we may have a
little chat."
Young Goethe was trying to send the guests away,
that he might break the news to his father before the
return of the Chancellor, who had brought it to him.
Goethe could not understand his son's strange conduct,
and seemed annoyed.
" Will you not stay for coffee ? " said he ; " it is
scarcely four o'clock."
The others all departed ; and I, too, took my hat.
" What ! are you going too ? " said he, astonished.
l828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 65
" Yes," said young Goethe ; " Eckermann has
something to do before going to the theatre." " Yes,"
said I, " I have something to do." " Go along then,"
said Goethe, shaking his head with a suspicious air;
" still, I do not understand you."
We went with Fräulein Ulrica into the upper rooms,
while young Goethe remained below, and communi-
cated the sad tidings to his father.
I saw Goethe late in the evening. Before I entered
his chamber, I heard him sighing and talking aloud to
himself : he seemed to feel that an irreparable rent had
been torn in his existence. All consolation he refused,
and would hear nothing of the sort.
" I thought," said he, " that I should depart before '
him y but God disposes as he thinks best ; and all that
we poor mortals have to do, is to endure and keep our-
selves upright as well and as long as we can."
The Dowager Grand Duchess received the melan-
choly news at her summer residence of Wilhelmsthal,
the younger members of the family received it in
Russia. Goethe went soon to Dornburg, to withdraw
himself from daily saddening impressions, and to restore
himself by fresh activity in a new scene.
By important literary incitements on the part of the
French, he had been once more impelled to his theory
of plants j and this rural abode, where, at every step
into the pure air, he was surrounded by the most lux-
urious vegetation, in the shape of twining vines and
sprouting flowers, was very favourable to such studies.
I sometimes visited him there, in company with his
VOL. 11. F
66 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
daughter-in-law and grandchildren. He seemed very
happy, and could not refrain from repeatedly express-
ing his delight at the beautiful situation of the castle
and gardens.
And, indeed, there was, from windows at such a
height, an enchanting prospect. Beneath was the
variegated valley, with the Saale meandering through
the meadows. On the opposite side, toward the east,
were woody hills, over which the eye could wander
afar, so that one felt that this situation was, in the day
time, favourable to the observation of passing showers
losing themselves in the distance, and at night to the
contemplation of the eastern stars and the rising sun.
" I enjoy here," said Goethe, " both good days and
good nights. Often before dawn I am already awake,
and lie down by the open window, to enjoy the splen-
dour of the three planets, which are at present to be
seen together, and to refresh myself with the increas-
ing brilliancy of the morning-red. I then pass almost
the whole day in the open air, and hold spiritual com-
munion with the tendrils of the vine, which say good
things to me, and of which I could tell you wonders.
I also write poems again, which are not bad, and, if it
were permitted me, I should like always to remain in
this situation."
Thursday, September 11, 1828.
At two o'clock to-day, in the very finest weather,
Goethe returned from Dornburg. He looked very
well, and was quite browned by the sun. We soon
sat down to dinner, in the chamber next the garden,
the doors of which stood open. He told us of many
visits and presents which he had received ; and seemed
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 67
to take pleasure in interspersing his conversation with
light jests. If, however, one looked deeper, one
could not but perceive a certain embarrassment, such
as a person feels who returns to a former situation,
conditioned by manifold relations, views, and requisi-
tions.
During the first course, a message came from the
Dowager Grand Duchess, expressing her pleasure at
Goethe's return, and announcing that she would have
the pleasure of visiting him on the following Tuesday.
Since the death of the Grand Duke, Goethe had
seen no member of the reigning family. He had,
indeed, corresponded constantly with the Dowager
Grand Duchess, so that they had sufficiently ex-
pressed their feelings upon their common loss. Still,
the personal interview could not but awake painful
emotions, and could not be anticipated without some
apprehension. Neither had Goethe yet seen the
young Duke and Duchess, nor paid his homage to
them as new rulers of the land. All this he had now
to undergo, and even, though it could not disturb him
as an accomplished man of the world, it was an impe-
diment to his talent, which always loved to move in its
innate directions, and in its own activity. Visits, too,
threatened him from all parts. The meeting at Berlin
of celebrated natural philosophers had set in motion
many important personages, who, passing through
Weimar on their way, had, some of them, announced
themselves, and were soon expected. Whole weeks
of disturbance, which would take the inner sense out
of its usual track, and other annoyances connected
with visits otherwise so valuable ; — all this was foreseen
F 2
68 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
like a coming spectre by Goethe, when he again set his
foot on the threshold, and paced his rooms. What
made all these coming evils still worse, was a circum-
stance which I cannot pass over. The fifth section
of his works, which was to contain the u Wander-
jahre," had been promised for the press at Christmas.
Goethe had begun entirely to - remodel this novel,
which originally appeared in one volume, combining
so much new matter with the old, that in the new
edition it would occupy three volumes.
Much is done, but there is also much to do. The
manuscript has everywhere gaps of white paper, which
are yet to be filled up. Here something is wanting to
the introduction ; here is to be found a suitable link to
render the reader less sensible that this is a collective
work j here are fragments of great interest, some of
which want a beginning, others an end ; so that,
altogether, there is much to do to all the three
volumes, to make the important work at once at-
tractive and graceful.
Last spring Goethe gave me this manuscript to
look over. We then both in words and writing dis-
cussed the subject at great length. I advised him to
devote the whole summer to the completion of this
work, and to lay aside all others for the time. He
was likewise convinced of the necessity of the case,
and had resolved to do so ; but the death of the Grand
Duke had caused a gap in his existence ; the tranquillity
and cheerfulness necessary to such a composition were
not now to be thought of, and he needed all his strength
merely to sustain the blow and revive from it. Now,
when with the commencement of autumn, returning
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 69
from Dornburg, he again paced the rooms of his
Weimar residence, the thought of completing his
" Wanderjahre," for which he had now only the space
of a few months, came vividly before his mind, in con-
flict with the various interruptions which awaited him,
and impeded the free action of his talent. When all
these matters are taken into consideration, I shall be
understood when I say that Goethe was ill at ease
within himself, although he jested lightly at dinner.
I have another reason for mentioning these circum-
stances, they are connected with an observation of
Goethe's, which appeared to me very remarkable,
which expressed his situation and peculiar character,
and of which I will now speak.
Professor Abeken of Osnaburg had sent me, shortly
before the 28th of August, an enclosure, requesting me
to give it to Goethe on his birth-day, and saying it was
a memorial relating to Schiller, which would certainly
give him pleasure. When Goethe was speaking to-
day, at dinner, of the various presents which had been
sent to him at Dornburg in honour of his birth-day,
I asked him what Abeken's packet contained.
" It was a remarkable present," said Goethe, " which
really gave me great pleasure. An amiable lady, with
whom Schiller took tea, conceived the happy idea of
writing down all he said. She comprehended it well,
and related it with accuracy, and after so long a time,
it still reads well, inasmuch as one is transplanted imme-
diately into a situation which is now past by with a
thousand others as interesting, while the living spirit of
this one only has been felicitously caught and fixed upon
paper.
70 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
" Schiller appears here, as always, in perfect posses-
sion of his sublime nature. He is as great at the tea-
table as he would have been in a council of state.
Nothing constrains him, nothing narrows him, nothing
draws downward the flight of his thoughts ; the great
views which lie within him are ever expressed freely
and fearlessly. He was a true man, such as one ought
to be. We others always feel ourselves subject to con-
ditions. The persons, the objects that surround us,
have their influence upon us. The tea-spoon con-
strains us, if it is of gold, when it should be of silver,
and so, paralyzed by a thousand considerations, we
do not succeed in expressing freely whatever may be
great in our nature. We are the slaves of objects
round us, and appear little or important according as
these contract or give us room to expand."
Goethe was silent. The conversation turned on
other subjects ; but I continued to meditate on these
important words, which had touched and expressed my
own inmost soul.
(Sup.*) Friday, September 26, 1828.
Goethe showed me to-day his rich collection of
fossils, which he keeps in the detached pavilion in his
garden. The collection was begun by himself; but
his son has greatly increased it ; and it is particularly
remarkable for a long series of petrified bones, all of
which were found in the neighbourhood of Weimar.
Wednesday, October 1, 1828.
Herr Hönninghausen of Crefeld, head of a great mer-
cantile house, and also an amateur of natural science,
especially mineralogy, — a man possessed of varied in-
I?28.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 7 1
formation, through extensive travels and studies — dined
with Goethe to-day. He had returned from the meet-
ing of natural philosophers at Berlin, and a great deal
was said about things connected with the subject, espe-
cially mineralogical matters.
There was also some talk about the Vulcanists,
and the way in which men arrive at views and hypo-
theses about nature. On this occasion, several great
natural philosophers were mentioned, including Aris-
totle, concerning whom Goethe spoke thus : —
" Aristotle observed nature better than any modern,
but he was too hasty with his opinions. We must go
slowly and gently to work with nature, if we would get
anything out of her.
" If, on investigating natural objects, I formed an
opinion, I did not expect nature to concede the point
at once, but I pursued her with observations and expe-
riments, and was satisfied if she were kind enough to
confirm my opinion when occasion offered. If she
did not do this, she at any rate brought me to some
other view, which I followed out, and which I perhaps
found her more willing to confirm."
Friday, October 3, 1828.
To-day* at dinner, I talked with Goethe about
Fouque's " Sängerkrieg auf der Wartburg,"* which I
had read, in compliance with his wish. We agreed
that this poet had spent his life in old-German studies,
without drawing from them any real culture in the
end.
* The " War of the Singers of the Wartburg ** was a famous poetical
contest in the days of the old Minnesängen. — Trans.
J
S
J2 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
" From these old- German gloomy times," said
Goethe, " we can obtain as little as from the Servian
songs, and similar barbaric popular poetry. We can
read it and be interested about it for a while, but merely
to cast it aside, and let it lie behind us. Generally
speaking, a man is quite sufficiently saddened by his
own passions and destiny, and need not make himself
more so, by the darkness of a barbaric past. He needs
enlightening and cheering influences, and should there-
fore turn to those eras in art and literature, during
which remarkable men obtained perfect culture, so
that they were satisfied with themselves, and able to
impart to others the blessings of their culture.
" But if you would have a good opinion of Fouque,
read his c Undine,' which is really charming. The
subject is, indeed, very good, and one cannot even
say that the writer has done with it all that was pos-
sible ; however, c Undine' is good, and will give you
pleasure."
" I have been unfortunate in my acquaintance with
the most modern German literature," said I. " I came
to the poems of Egon Ebert from Voltaire, whose
acquaintance I had just made by those little poems
which are addressed to individuals, and which certainly
belong to the best he ever wrote. And now, I have
fared no better with Fouque. While deeply engaged
in Walter Scott's c Fair Maid of Perth/ the first work
of this great writer which I had ever read, I am in-
duced to put it aside, and give myself up to the
* Sängerkrieg auf der Wartburg.' "
" Against these great foreigners," said Goethe, " the
modern Germans certainly cannot keep their ground ;
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 73
but it is desirable that you should, by degrees, make
yourself acquainted with all writers, foreign and domes-
tic, that you may see how that higher world-culture,
which the poet needs, is really to be obtained."
Frau von Goethe came in, and sat down to the table
with us.
" But," continued Goethe, with animation, " Walter
Scott's c Fair Maid of Perth* is excellent, is it not ?
There is finish ! there is a hand ! What a firm foun-
dation for the whole, and in particulars not a touch
which does not lead to the catastrophe ! Then, what
details of dialogue and description, both of which are
excellent.
" His scenes and situations are like pictures by
Teniers ; in the arrangement they show the summit
of art, the individual figures have a speaking truth, and
the execution is extended with artistical love to the
minutest details, so that not a stroke is lost. How far
have you read ? "
" I have come," said I, " to the passage where
Henry Smith carries the pretty minstrel girl home
through the streets, and round about lanes ; and where,
to his great vexation, Proudfoot and Dwining met
him."
" Ah," said Goethe, " that is excellent $ that the
obstinate, honest blacksmith should be brought at last
to take with him not only the suspicious maiden, but
even the little dog, is one of the finest things to be
found in any novel. It shows a knowledge of human
nature, to which the deepest mysteries are revealed."
u It was also," said I, " an admirable notion to make
the heroine's father a glover, who, by his trade in skins,
74 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
must have been long in communication with the High-
landers."
" Yes," said Goethe, " that is a touch of the highest
order. From this circumstance spring the relations
and situations most favourable for the whole book, and
these by this means also obtain a real basis, so that
they have an air of the most convincing truth. You
find everywhere in Walter Scott a remarkable security
and thoroughness in his delineation, which proceeds
from his comprehensive knowledge of the real world,
obtained by life-long studies and observations, and a
daily discussion of the most important relations. Then
come his great talent and his comprehensive nature.
You remember the English critic, who compares the
poets to the voices of male singers, of which some can
command only a few fine tones, while others have the
whole compass, from the highest to the lowest, com-
pletely in their power. Walter Scott is one of this
last sort. In the c Fair Maid of Perth/ you will not
find a single weak passage to make you feel as if his
knowledge and talent were insufficient. He is equal
to his subject in every direction in which it takes him ;
the king, the royal brother, the prince, the head of the
clergy, the nobles, the magistracy, the citizens and
mechanics, the Highlanders, are all drawn with the
same sure hand, and hit off with equal truth."
" The English," said Frau von Goethe, " particularly
like the character of Henry Smith, and Walter Scott
seems to have made him the hero of the book ; how-
ever, he is not my favourite ; I like the Prince."
" The Prince," said I, " is, indeed, amiable enough
with all his wildness, and is as well drawn as any of the
rest."
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 75
" The passage," said Goethe, " where, sitting on
horseback, he makes the pretty minstrel girl step upon
his foot, that he may raise her up for a kiss, is in the
boldest English style. But you ladies are wrong always
to take sides. Usually, you read a book to find nutri-
tion for the heart ; to find a hero whom you could
love. This is not the way to read ; the great point is,
not whether this or that character pleases, but whether
the whole book pleases."
" We women were made so, dear father," said she,
affectionately leaning over the table to press his hand.
" Well, we must let you have your own way in your
amiability," replied Goethe.
The last number of the " Globe" lay by him, and he
took it up. I talked, in the mean while, with Frau
von Goethe, about some young Englishmen, whose ac-
quaintance I had made at the theatre.
" What men these writers in the 4 Globe are ! ' v re-
sumed Goethe, with animation. " One has scarcely a
notion how it is they become greater and more remark-
able every day, and how much, as it were, they are
imbued with one spirit. Such a paper would be utterly
impossible in Germany. We are mere individuals }
harmony and concert are not to be thought of; each
has the opinions of his province, his city, and his own
idiosyncracy ; and it will be a long while before we
have attained an universal culture."
(Sup.*) Monday, October 6, 1828.
Dined with Goethe, in company with Herr von
Martius, who has been here for some days, and
who spoke with Goethe on botanical subjects. It is
76 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
especially the spiral tendency of plants, about which
Herr von Martius has made important discoveries 5
these he imparted to Goethe, to whom they open a
new field. Goethe appeared to take up his friend's
idea with a sort of youthful ardour. " For the physio-
logy of plants," said he, " much is gained by it. The
new discovery of the spiral tendency is thoroughly con-
formable to my doctrine of metamorphoses ; it has been
found on the same path, but is a considerable step in
advance of it."
Tuesday, October 7, 1828.
There was the most lively party at dinner to-day.
Besides the Weimar friends, there were some natural
philosophers returned from Berlin, among whom, Herr
von Martius, from Munich, who sat next Goethe,
was known to me. There was joking and conversa-
tions on the most various subjects. Goethe was par-
ticularly good-humoured and communicative. The
theatre was then talked about, and much was said of
the opera last given — Rossini's "Moses." They
found fault with the subject, and both praised and
found fault with the music.
Goethe said, " I do not understand how you can
separate the subject from the music, and enjoy each by
itself. You say the subject is not a good one ; but
you can set that aside, and enjoy the excellent music.
I really admire this arrangement in your natures, by
which your ears are able to listen to pleasant sounds,
while the most powerful sense, vision, is tormented by
the absurdest objects. And that this c Moses,' is absurd,
you will not deny. When the curtain rises you see
the people standing at prayer. This is very wrong.
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 77
It is written c When thou prayest, go into thy closet,
and shut the door. 9 But there ought to be no praying
on the stage.
" I would have made a wholly different c Moses,'
and have begun the piece quite otherwise. I would
have first shown you how the children of Israel in their
hard bondage suffered from the tyranny of the Egyp-
tian task-masters, in order to render more conspicuous
the merit of Moses in freeing his people from this
shameful oppression."
Goethe then cheerfully went through the whole
opera step by step, through all the scenes and acts,
full of life and intelligence, and with a historical feel-
ing for the subject, to the delighted astonishment of
the whole company, who could not but admire the
irrepressible flow of his thoughts, and the wealth of his
invention. It passed before me too quickly for me to
seize it ; but I remember the dance of the Egyptians,
which Goethe introduced to express their joy at the
return of light, after the darkness had been overcome.
The conversation turned from Moses to the deluge,
and took a scientific turn.
" It is said," observed Herr von Martius, " they
have found on Ararat, a petrified piece of Noah's ark,
and I shall be surprised if they do not also find petrified
skulls of the first men."
This remark led to others of a similar kind, and the
conversation turned upon the various races of men —
how as black, brown, yellow, and white, they inhabit
the different countries of the earth. The question
finally arose whether we ought to assume that all men
are descended from the single pair, Adam and Eve.
78 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
Von Martius was for the biblical account, which he
sought to confirm by the maxim, that nature goes to
work as economically as possible in her productions.
" I cannot agree to that opinion," said Goethe ; " I
maintain rather that nature is always lavish, even pro-
digal 5 and that it would show more acquaintance with
her to believe she has, instead of one paltry pair, pro-
duced men by dozens or hundreds.
" When the earth had arrived at a certain point of
maturity, the water had ebbed away, and the dry land
was sufficiently verdant, came the epoch for the crea-
tion of man, and men arose, through the omnipotence
of God, wherever the ground permitted ; perhaps on
the heights first.
" To believe that this happened I esteem reasonable ;
but to attempt to decide how it happened I deem an
useless trouble, which we will leave to those who like
to busy themselves with insolvable problems, and have
nothing better to do."
" Even," said Herr von Martius, archly, " if I
could, as a naturalist, willingly yield to your excellency's
opinion, I should, as a good Christian, find some diffi-
culty in adopting a view which cannot well be recon-
ciled with the account given us in the Bible."
" Holy writ," replied Goethe, u speaks, certainly,
only of one pair of human beings, whom God made
on the sixth day ; but the gifted men who wrote down
the Word of God, as recorded in the Bible, had first
in view their own chosen people ; and as far as that
people is concerned, we will not dispute the honour of
a descent from Adam and Eve. But we, as well as
the Negroes and Laplanders, and slender men, who are
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 79
handsomer than any of us, had certainly different
ancestors ; and this worthy company must confess that
we at present differ in a variety of particulars from the
genuine descendants of Adam, and that they, especially
where money is concerned, are superior to us all."
We laughed ; the conversation became general«
Goethe, excited by Von Martius to argument, said
many interesting things, which, under the appearance
of jesting, had a deeper meaning at bottom.
After dinner, the Prussian minister, Herr von
Jordan, was announced, and we went into the next
room.
Wednesday, October 8, 1828.
Tieck, returning from a journey to the Rhine, with
his wife, his daughters, and Countess Finkenstein, was
expected to dine with Goethe to-day. I met them in
the ante-room. Tieck looked very well ; the Rhine
baths seemed to have had a favourable effect upon him.
I told him that since I had seen him I had been read-
ing Sir Walter Scott's new novel, and what pleasure
this extraordinary talent had given me.
" I suspect," said Tieck, " that this last novel of
Scott's, which I have not yet read, is the best he has
ever written ; however, he is so great a writer, that
the first work of his which you read always excites
astonishment, approach him on what side you will."
Professor Göttling came in, just fresh from his
Italian tour. I was extremely glad to see him again,
and drew him to a window that he might tell me what
he had seen.
" To Rome ! " said he ; c< you must to Rome, if
you would become anything ! That is indeed a city !
80 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
that is a life ! that is a world ! Whatever is small in
our nature cannot be eradicated while we are in Ger-
many, but as soon as we enter Rome a transformation
takes place in us, and we feel ourselves great, like the
objects which surround us."
" Why," said I, " did you not stay there longer ? "
" My money and my leave of absence were at an
end," he replied 5 " but I felt very uncomfortable when
I again crossed the Alps, leaving fair Italy behind me."
Goethe came in, and greeted his guests. He talked
on various subjects with Tieck and his family, and
then offered the countess his arm to take her to the
dining-room. We followed, and when we took our
seats at the table made a motley group. The conver-
sation was lively and unconstrained, but I remember
little of what was said.
After dinner, the Princes von Oldenburg were
announced. We then went up to Frau von Goethe's
apartment, where Fräulein Agnes Tieck seated herself
at the piano, and gave us the song " Im Felde schleich'
ich still und wild," with a fine alto voice, and so
thoroughly in the spirit of the situation, that it made
quite an ineffaceable impression on the mind.
Thursday, October 9, 1828.
I dined to-day with Goethe and Frau von Goethe
alone ; and as it often happens that a conversation
begun on one day is continued on another, so was it on
this occasion. Rossini's " Moses " was again spoken
of, and we recalled with pleasure Goethe's lively inven-
tion the day before yesterday.
u What I said, in the merriment and good-humour
1
l828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 8l
of the moment, about c Moses,' " . said he, " I cannot
recall ; for such things are done quite unconsciously.
But of this I am certain, that I cannot enjoy an opera
unless the story is as perfect as the music, so that the
two may keep pace one with another. If you ask
what opera I consider good, I would name the " Was-
serträger" (Water-Carrier) ; for here the subject is so
perfect, that, if given as a mere drama, without music,
it could be seen with pleasure. Composers either do
not understand the importance of a good foundation, or
they have not intelligent poets who know to assist
them with good stories. If * Der Freischütz* had
not been so good a subject, the mere music would
hardly have drawn such crowds ; and therefore Herr
Kind should have some share in the honour."
After various discussion on this subject, we spoke
of Professor Göttling, and his travels in Italy.
<c I cannot blame the good man," said Goethe, " for
speaking of Italy with such enthusiasm ; I well know
what I experienced myself. Indeed, I may say that only
in Rome have I felt what it really is to be a man. To
this elevation, to this happiness of feeling, I have never
since arisen ; indeed, compared with my situation at
Rome, I have never since felt real gladness."
" But," continued Goethe, after a pause, " we will
not give ourselves up to melancholy thoughts. How
do you get on with your c Fair Maid of Perth ? ' How
far have you read ? Tell me all about it."
" I read slowly," said I. " However, I am now as
far as the scene where Proudfoot, when in Henry
Smith's armour he imitates his walk and whistle, is
slain, and on the following morning is found in the
VOL. II. G
82 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
streets of Perth by the citizens, who, taking him for
Smith, raise a great alarm through the city."
" Ay," said Goethe, " that scene is remarkable ; it
is one of the best."
" I have been particularly struck," said I, " with
Walter Scott's great talent for disentangling confused
situations, so that the whole separates itself into masses
and quiet pictures, which leave on our minds an im-
pression as if, like omniscient beings, we had looked
down and seen events which were occurring at the
same time in various places."
" Generally," said Goethe, " he shows great under-
standing of art ; for which reason we, and those like
us, who always particularly look to see how things
are done, find a double interest and the greatest profit
in his works.
" I will not anticipate, but you will find in the
third volume an admirable contrivance. You have
already seen how the prince in council makes the wise
proposal to let the rebel Highlanders destroy one
another in combat, and how Palm Sunday is appointed
for the day when the hostile clans are to come down
to Perth, and to fight for life or death, thirty against
thirty. You will see with admiration how Scott
manages to make one man (ail on one side on the deci-
sive day, and with what art he contrives to bring his
hero Smith from a distance into the vacant place among
the combatants. This is admirably done ; and you will
be delighted when you come to it.
" But, when you have finished the c Fair Maid
of Perth/ you must at once read * Waverley,' which is
indeed from quite a different point of view, but which
J
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 83
may, without hesitation, be set beside the best works
that have ever been written in this world. We see
that if is the same man who wrote the ' Fair Maid of
Perth,' but that he has yet to gain the favour of the
public, and therefore collects his forces so that he may
not give a touch that is short of excellence. The
* Fair Maid of Perth,' on the other hand, is from a
freer pen ; the author is now sure of his public, and he
proceeds more at liberty. After reading 4 Waverley,'
you will understand why Walter Scott stiJl designates
himself the author of that work ; for there he showed
what he could do, and he has never since written anything
to surpass, or even equal, that first published novel."
Thursday evening, October 9, 1828,
In honour of Tieck, a very pleasant tea-party was
given this evening in the apartments of Frau von
Goethe. I made the acquaintance of Count and
Countess Medem. The latter told me that she had
seen Goethe to-day, and had been highly delighted with
the impression he had made. The count was especially
interested about " Faust" and its continuation, and
conversed with me about it for some time with much
animation.
We had hoped that Tieck would read something
aloud, and he did so. The party retired into a more
remote room, and after all had comfortably seated
themselves in a wide circle on chairs and sofas, he read
« Clavigo."
1 had often read and felt this drama; but now it ap-
peared to me quite new, and produced an effect such as I
had scarcely experienced before. It seemed as if I heard
g 2
84 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
it from the stage, only better ; every character and
situation was more perfectly felt : it produced the im-
pression of a theatrical representation in which each
part is well performed.
It would be hard to say what parts Tieck read best ;
whether those in which the powers and passions of the
male characters are developed ; or the quiet clear
scenes addressed to the understanding ; or the mo-
ments of tortured love. For giving expression to
passages of this last sort, he had especial qualifications.
The scene between Marie and Clavigo is still ringing
in my ears ; the oppressed bosom ; the faltering and
trembling of the voice ; the broken half-stifled words
and sounds ; the panting and sighing of a hot breath,
accompanied with tears ; — all this is still present with
me, and will never be forgotten. Every one was
absorbed in listening, and wholly carried away. The
lights burned dim ; nobody thought of that, or ven-
turned to snuff them, for fear of the slightest interrup-
tion. Tears constantly dropping from the eyes of the
ladies showed the deep effect of the piece, and were
the most hearty tribute that could be paid to the reader
or the poet.
Tieck had finished, and rose, wiping the perspiration
from his forehead ; but the hearers seemed still fettered
to their chairs. Each man appeared too deeply engaged
with what had just been passing through his soul, to
have ready the suitable words of gratitude for him who
had produced so wonderful an effect upon us all. Gra-
dually, however, we recovered ourselves. The com-
pany arose, and talked cheerfully with one another.
Then we partook of a supper which stood ready on
little tables in the adjoining rooms.
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 85
Goethe himself was not present this evening ; but
his spirit and a remembrance of him were living among
us all. He sent an apology to Tieck ; and to his
daughters, Agnes and Dorothea, two handkerchief-
pins, with his own picture and red ribbons, which Frau
von Goethe gave them, and fastened to their dresses
like little orders.
Friday, October 10, 1828.
From Mr. William Frazer of London, editor of the
u Foreign Review," I received, this morning, two
copies of the third number of that periodical, and
gave one of them to Goethe at dinner.
I found again a pleasant dinner party, invited in
honour of Tieck and the Countess, who, at the urgent
request of Goethe and their other friends, had remained
another day, the rest of the family having set off in the
morning for Dresden.
At table a special subject of conversation was Eng-
lish literature, and particularly Walter Scott, on which
occasion Tieck said, that he brought to Germany the
first copy of Waverley ten years ago.
Saturday, October 11, 1828.
The above-mentioned number of the u Foreign
Review" contained, with a variety of other important
and interesting articles, a very fine essay by Carlyle,
upon Goethe, which I studied this morning.
I went to Goethe a little earlier to dinner, that I
might have an opportunity of talking this over with
him before the arrival of the other guests. I found
him, as I wished, still alone, expecting the company.
He wore his black coat and star, with which I so
86 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
much like to see him. He appeared to-day in quite
youthful spirits, and we began immediately to speak
on topics interesting to both. Goethe told me that he
likewise had been looking at Carlyle's article this morn-
ing, and thus we were both in a position to exchange
commendations of these foreign attempts.
" It is pleasant to see," said Goethe, " how the
earlier pedantry of the Scotch has changed into earnest-
ness and profundity. When I recollect how the
c Edinburgh Reviewers' treated my works not many
years since, and when I now consider Carlyle's merits
with respect to German literature, I am astonished at
the important step for the better."
"In Carlyle," said I, "I venerate most of all the
mind and character which lie at the foundation of his
tendencies. The chief point with him is the culture
of his own nation ; and, in the literary productions of
other countries, which he wishes to make known to
his contemporaries, he pays less attention to the arts of
talent, than to the moral elevation which can be attained
through such works."
u Yes," said Goethe, "the temper in which he
works is always admirable. What an earnest man he
is ! and how he has studied us Germans ! He is
almost more at home in our literature than ourselves.
At any rate, we cannot vie with him in our researches
in English literature."
" The article," said I, " is written with a fire and
impressiveness which show that there are many pre-
judices and contradictions to contend with in England.
c Wilhelm Meister' especially seems to have been placed
in an unfavourable light by malevolent critics and bad
j
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 87
translators. Carlyle, on the contrary, behaves very-
well. To the stupid objection that no virtuous lady
could read ' Wilhelm Meister,* he opposes the example
of the late Queen of Prussia, who made herself familiar
with the book, and was rightly esteemed one of the
first women of her time."
Some of the guests came in now, whom Goethe
received. He then turned to me again, and I con-
tinued.
" Carlyle has, indeed," said I, " studied c Meister,'
and being so thoroughly penetrated with its value, he
would like to see it universally circulated, — would
like to see every cultivated mind receive similar profit
and enjoyment."
Goethe drew me to a window to answer me.
c< My dear young friend," said he, u I will confide
to you something which may help you on a great deal.
My works cannot be popular. He who thinks and
strives to make them so is in error. They are not
written for the multitude, but only for individuals who
desire something congenial, and whose aims are like
my own."
He wished to say more ; but a young lady who came
up interrupted him, and drew him into conversation.
I turned to the others, and soon afterwards we sat
down to table.
I could pay no attention to the conversation that was
going on j Goethe's words were impressed upon me,
and entirely occupied my mind.
" Really," thought I, " a writer like him, an intellect
so exalted, a nature so comprehensive, how can he be
popular ? Can even a small part of him be popular ?
88 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
even those songs which convivial companies or ena-
moured maidens sing, and which again are not for others ?
"And, rightly regarded, is not this the case with
everything extraordinary ? Is Mozart, is Raphael
popular ? and is not the relation of the world towards
these great fountains of overflowing spiritual life like
that of some dainty person, who is pleased now and
then to snatch up a little that may for a while afford
higher enjoyment.
" Yes," I continued, in my own mind, " Goethe is
right. He cannot be popular to his full extent ; his
works are only for individuals who desire something
congenial, and whose pursuits are like his own. They
are for contemplative natures, who wish to penetrate
into the depths of the world and human nature, and
follow in his path. They are for those susceptible
of passionate enjoyment, who seek in the poet the bliss
and woe of the heart. They are for young poets who
would learn how to express their feelings, and how to
treat a subject artistically. They are for critics, who
find there a model for the best rules of judgment, and
also for the means of making a criticism interesting and
attractive, so that it may be read with pleasure.
" His works are for the artist, inasmuch as they
enlighten his mind generally, and teach him particularly
what subjects are suited to works of art ; what he
should use, and what leave aside. They are for the
observer of nature, not only because great laws are
discovered and taught him, but, still more, because
they give him the method by which the intellect must
proceed with nature to make her reveal her mysteries.
"In short, all those who are making efforts in
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE» 89
science or art, may be guests at the richly-provided
banquet of his works, and in their productions bear
witness to the great general source of light and life
from which they have drawn."
These and similar thoughts were in my head all
dinner-time. I thought of individuals, of many a good
German artist, of natural philosophers, poets, and
critics, who owed to Goethe a great part of their
culture. I thought of intellectual Italians, Frenchmen,
and Englishmen, who have their eyes upon him, and
who have worked in his spirit.
In the mean while, all around me were jesting and
talking, and partaking of the good fere. I spoke now
and then a word, but without exactly knowing what I
said. A lady put a question to me, to which, it seems,
I did not render a very appropriate answer : they all
laughed at me.
" Let Eckermann alone," said Goethe. " He is
always absent, except when he is at the theatre."
They laughed at me again ; but I did not regard it.
I felt myself, to-day, peculiarly happy. I blessed my
fate, which, after many singular dispensations, had asso-
ciated me with the few who enjoy the conversation and
intimacy of a man whose greatness I had deeply felt
only a few moments since, and whom I now had per-
sonally before my eyes, in all his amiability.
Biscuits and some very fine grapes were brought for
dessert. The latter had been sent from a distance, and
Goethe would not say whence they came. He divided
them, and handed me a very ripe branch across the table.
" Here, my good friend," said he, " eat these sweets,
and much good may they do you."
_- 1
90 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
I highly enjoyed the grapes from Goethe's hand, and
was now quite near him both in body and soul.
They talked of the theatre, and of WolfPs great
merits, and of what had been done by that excellent
artist.
" I know very well," said Goethe, " that our earlier
actors learned much from me, but I can properly call
none but Wolff my pupil. I will give you an instance,
which I am very fond of repeating, to show how
thoroughly he was penetrated with my principles, and
how fully he acted in my spirit. I was once very angry
with Wolff for various reasons. He played one even-
ing, and I was sitting in my box. c Now/ thought I
to myself, ' you can keep a sharp look out upon him ;
for there is not, to-day, a spark of affection within you,
which can speak out for him and excuse him. Wolff
acted, and I kept my sharp eye fixed upon him. And
how did he act ! How safe — how firm he was ! It
was impossible to find out in him even the shadow of
an offence against the rules which I had implanted in
him, and I saw that a reconciliation with him was in-
evitable.' "
(Sup.*) Friday, October 17, 1828.
Goethe has, for some time past, been reading the
c< Globe" very eagerly, and he often makes this paper
the subject of his conversation. The endeavours of
Cousin and his school appear to him especially im-
portant.
" These men," said he, " are quite on the way to
effect an approximation between France and Germany,
inasmuch as they form a language which is entirely
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 91
fitted to facilitate the interchange of ideas between the
two nations."
The " Globe" has also a particular interest for
Goethe, because the newest productions in French
belles lettres are reviewed, and the freedom of the
romantic school, or rather the emancipation from the
fetters of unmeaning rules, is often defended in a very
animated manner.
" What is the use of the whole lumber of rules
belonging to a stiff antiquated time," said he to-day,
" and what is the use of all the noise about classical and
romantic ! The point is for a work to be thoroughly
good and then it is sure to be classical."
Monday, October 20, 1828.
Oberbergrath* Nceggerath of Bonn, on his return
from the meeting of natural philosophers at Berlin,
was a very welcome guest to-day at Goethe's table.
There was much talk about mineralogy, and the worthy
stranger gave us some profound information about
the mineralogical phenomena in the neighbourhood of
Bonn.
After dinner we went into the room where there is
the colossal bust of Juno. Goethe shewed the guests
a long slip of paper, with outlines of the frieze of the
temple at Phigalia. While we were looking at these,
the remark was made that the Greeks, in representing
animals, adhered less to nature than to certain con-
ventional rules, and there was an attempt to prove, that
in representations of this kind they are inferior to nature,
* Literally " Upper-Mine-Councillor** — a superior officer in a mining
office.—- 'trans.
92 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
and that their rams, oxen, and horses, as they appear
in bas-relief, are often very stiff, shapeless, and im-
perfect creatures.
" I will not dispute with you about that point,"
said Goethe ; " but before all things, we must distinguish
the time and the artist from which such works proceed.
For numbers of masterpieces have been found, in which
the Greek artists, in representing animals, have not
only equalled, but even for surpassed nature. The
English, who understand horses better than any nation
in the world, are now compelled to acknowledge that
two antique heads of horses are more perfect in their
forms than those of any race now existing upon earth.
" These heads are from the best Greek period, and
while we are astonished at such works, we should not
so much infer that the artists have copied from a
more perfect nature than we now possess, as that they
themselves had become of some value in the progress
of art, so that they turned to nature with their own
personal greatness."
While all this was said, I stood on one side, looking
at an engraving with a lady, at one of the tables, and
could only lend half an ear to Goethe's words ; but so
much the deeper did they sink into my mind.
After the company had gradually departed, and I
was alone with Goethe, who stood by the stove, I ap-
proached him.
" Your excellency," said I, " made an excellent re-
mark a little while ago, when you said that the Greeks
turned to nature with their own greatness, and I think
that we cannot be too deeply penetrated with this
maxim."
l828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 93
* Yes, my good friend," said Goethe, " all depends
upon this ; one must be something in order to do
something. Dante seems to us great ; but he had the
culture of centuries behind him. The house of Roth-
schild is rich ; but it has taken more than one gene-
ration to accumulate such treasures. All these things
lie deeper than is thought.
" Our worthy artists who imitate the old German
school know nothing of all this ; they proceed to the
imitation of nature with their own personal weakness
and artistic incapacity, and fancy they are doing some-
thing. They stand below nature. But whoever will
produce anything great, must so improve his culture
that, like the Greeks, he will be able to elevate the mere
trivial actualities of nature to the level of his own mind,
and really carry out that which, in natural phenomena,
either from internal weakness or external obstacles, re-
mains a mere intention. 9 '
Wednesday, October 22, 1828.
To-day at dinner we talked about ladies, and Goethe
expressed himself very beautifully. a Women," said
he, " are silver dishes into which we put golden apples.
My idea of women is not abstracted from the pheno-
mena of actual life, but has been born with me, or
arisen in me, God knows how. The female cha-
racters which I have drawn, have therefore all turned
out well , they are all better than could be found in
reality.
(Sup.) Thursday, October 23, 1828.
Goethe spoke to-day with great respect of a little
paper of the Chancellor's, on the subject of the Grand-
94 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
Duke Charles Augustus, which reviews, in a short
compass, the active life of this remarkable prince.
" He has been very happy with this little work,"
said Goethe ; " the materials are brought together
with great circumspection and care; then all is
animated with the breath of the heartiest love, while
at the same time the style is so close that one act
follows immediately upon another, and we almost
feel a mental giddiness in the contemplation of such
fulness of life and action. The Chancellor has also
sent his work to Berlin, and received some time ago a
highly remarkable letter from Alexander von Humboldt,
which I could not read without deep emotion. Hum-
boldt was on the most intimate terms with the Grand-
Duke during a long life ; which certainly is not to be
wondered at, since the profound and highly endowed
nature of the Prince was always athirst for fresh know-
ledge, and Humboldt, with his great universality, was
just the man to be always ready with the best and pro-
foundest answer to every question.
"Now, it is a singular feet that the Grand-Duke
passed the very last days before his death at Berlin,
in almost constant intercourse with Humboldt, and
that he was at last able to obtain from his friend
the solution of many important problems which lay
upon his heart. Further, the circumstance that
one of the greatest princes whom Germany had ever
possessed had such a man as Humboldt to witness
his last days and hours, could not fail of producing a
favourable effect. I have made a copy of the letter,
and will impart some passages to you/'
Goethe rose and went to his desk, whence he took
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 95
the letter, and then reseated himself at the table. He
read for some time in silence. I saw tears in his eyes.
" Read it for yourself," said he, whilst he handed it to
me. He rose and walked up and down the room
whilst I read : —
" Who could have been more shocked at the sudden
departure of the illustrious deceased," writes Hum-
boldt, " than I, whom he treated during thirty years
with such kind distinction, I may say with such sin-
cere predilection. Even here he would have me near
him almost every hour ; and as if this great brightness,
as with the lofty snow-capped Alps, were the fore-
runner of departing light, never have I seen the great
humane prince more animated, more intelligent, more
mild, more sympathizing with the further development
of the people, than in the last days when we had him
here. I frequently said to my friends, anxiously and
full of misgivings, that this animation, this mysterious
clearness of intellect, combined with so much bodily
weakness, was to me a fearful phenomenon* He him-
self evidently vacillated between hope of recovery and
expectation of the great catastrophe.
"When I saw him at breakfast four-and-twenty
hours previously to this, though he was ill and without
appetite, he still questioned me cheerfully upon the
granite of the shores of the Baltic which had just been
brought from Sweden, upon the tails of the comets
which might dim our atmosphere, and upon the cause
of the extreme severity of the winter on all the eastern
coasts.
" When I saw him for the last time, he pressed my
hand at my departure, and cheerfully said — c Do you
96 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
believe, Humboldt, that Töplitz and all the warm
springs are like water artificially heated ? We will
discuss that at Töplitz, when you come there with
the king. You will see that your old kitchen fire
will still make me hold together for a while. 9 Strange !
for with such a man everything is of importance.
u In Potsdam, I sat many hours alone with him
upon his couch ; he drank and slept alternately, then
drank again, then rose to write to his consort, and
then slept again. He was cheerful, but much ex-
hausted. In the intervals, he overpowered me with
the most difficult questions upon physics, astronomy,
meteorology, and geognosy ; upon the transparency of
the nucleus of a comet > upon the atmosphere of the
moon ; upon the coloured double stars ; upon the in-
fluence of the spots in the sun upon temperature ; upon
the appearance of organized forms in the primitive
world ; and upon the internal warmth of the earth. He
slept at intervals during his discourse and mine, was
often restless, and then said, mildly and kindly excus-
ing his apparent inattention, ' You see, Humboldt, it
is all over with me ! '
" Suddenly, he began to talk desultorily upon religious
matters. He regretted the increase of pietism, and
the connection of this species of fanaticism with a ten-
dency towards political absolutism, and a suppression of
all free mental action. * Then,' he exclaimed, ' there
are false-hearted fellows who think that by means of
pietism they can make themselves agreeable to princes,
and obtain places and ribbons. They have smuggled
themselves in with a poetical predilection for the
middle ages.'
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 97
u His anger soon abated, and he said that he now
found much consolation in the Christian religion. ' It
is a humane doctrine, 9 said he, ' but has been distorted
from the beginning. The first Christians were the
free-thinkers among the ultras.'"
I expressed to Goethe my delight at this noble letter.
" You see," said Goethe, " what an extraordinary man
he was. But how good it is of Humboldt to have
taken up these last few traits, which may certainly
serve as a symbol in which the whole nature of this
eminent prince is reflected. Yes, such he was ! — I
can say it better than any one, for no one knew him
so thoroughly as I did. But is it not lamentable that
there is no distinction, and that such a man must
depart from us so early ! Had he staid with us only a
poor century more, how, in his high position, could he
have advanced his age ! But mark this. The world
will not attain its goal so speedily as we expect and
desire. There are always retarding demons, who start
in opposition at every point, so that although the whole
progresses, it is but slowly. Only live on, and you
will find that I am right."
" The development of mankind," said I, " appears
to be laid out as a work for thousands of years."
" Perhaps millions," said Goethe — u who knows ?
But let mankind last as long as it may, it will never
lack obstacles to give it trouble, and never lack the
pressure of necessity to develop its powers.
" Men will become more clever and more acute, but
not better, happier, and stronger in action, or at least
only at epochs. I foresee the time when God will
have no more joy in them, but will break up every-
vol. 11. H
98 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
thing for a renewed creation. I am certain that every-
thing is planned to this end, and that the time and hour
are already fixed in the distant future for the occurrence
of this renovating epoch. But a long time will elapse
first, and we may still for thousands and thousands of
years amuse ourselves in all sorts of ways on this dear
old surface."
Goethe was in a particularly good and elevated
mood. He ordered a bottle of wine, and filled for
himself and me. Our conversation again turned upon
the Grand-Duke Charles Augustus.
" You see," said Goethe, " how his extraordinary
mind embraced the whole kingdom of nature. Physics,
astronomy, geognosy, meteorology, vegetable and
animal formations of the primitive world, and every-
thing of the sort ; — he had a mind for all and took
interest in them all. He was eighteen years of age
when I came to Weimar; but even then the buds
showed what the tree would one day become. He
soon attached himself most intimately to me, and took
a deep interest in all that I did. It was advantageous
to our intercourse that I was ten years older than he.
He sat whole evenings with me, in earnest conversa-
tion on the subjects of art and nature, and other excel-
lent topics. We often sat together deep into the
night, and not unfrequently we both fell asleep on one
sofa. We worked together for fifty years, and it is no
wonder that we at last achieved something."
" So thorough a cultivation as the Grand-Duke
seems to have received is probably rare among
princes."
" Very seldom ! " returned Goethe. " There are,
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 99
indeed, many who are capable of conversing very
cleverly on every subject, but they have it not at
heart, and only dabble upon the surface. And it is
no wonder, if one considers the frightful dissipations
and distractions which accompany a court life, and
to which a young prince is exposed. He must take
notice of everything ; he must know a bit of this and
a bit of that. Under such circumstances, nothing
can take root ; and it requires a strong natural founda-
tion not to end in smoke in the face of such constant
demands. The Grand-Duke was indeed a born great
man ; and in this all is said, and all is done."
" With all his highly scientific and intellectual ten-
dencies," said I, u he appears to have understood the
art of government."
"He was a man of one piece," returned Goethe,
" and with him everything flowed from one single great
source. And as the whole was good, so the individual
parts were good, let him do as he might. But he pos-
sessed three especially useful qualities for carrying on a
government. He had the talent of discriminating be-
tween minds and characters, and of placing every one in
his proper place. That was a great point. Then he
possessed another gift as great, if not greater ; he was
animated by the noblest benevolence, by the purest
philanthropy, and with his whole soul aimed only
at what was best. He always thought first of the hap-
piness of his country, and only at last a little of himself.
His hand was always ready and open to meet noble
men, and to assist in promoting worthy objects. There
was a great deal that was divine in him. He would
have liked to promote the happiness of all mankind.
h 2
100 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
Love engenders love, and one who is loved can easily
govern.
" Thirdly, he was greater than those who sur-
rounded him. After ten voices which he heard on a
certain occasion, he perceived an eleventh, and that a
better one, in himself. Strange whispers passed him
unheeded, and he was not easily led to commit any-
thing unprincely, by setting aside real merit on which a
doubt had been cast, and taking worthless ragamuffins
under his protection. He surveyed everything him-
self, judged for himself, and had in all cases the surest
basis in himself. Moreover, he was of a silent nature,
and his words were always followed by action."
" How it grieves me," said I, " that I knew nothing
of him but his exterior ; still that made a deep impres-
sion upon me. I see him still in his old drosky, in a
worn-out grey cloak and military cap, smoking a cigar,
as he drove to the chase, with his favourite hound by
his side. I have never seen him ride otherwise than in
this ugly old drosky. And never with more than two
horses. An equipage with six horses, and coats with
orders, do not seem to have been much according to
his taste."
" That sort of thing,** returned Goethe, cc is now
almost out of date with princes generally. The only
point now is what a man weighs in the scale of
humanity ; all the rest is nought. A coat with a star,
and a chariot with six horses, at all events, imposes
on the rudest multitude only, and scarcely that«
Then the Grand-Duke's old drosky barely hung upon
springs. Whoever rode with him had to put up with
some desperate shocks. But that was in his way j he
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. IOI
liked the rough and inconvenient, and was an enemy
to all effeminacy."
" We see traces of that in your poem of * Ilmenau,' "
said I, " in which you appear to have drawn him to
the life."
" He was then very young," returned Goethe, " and
we certainly led rather a mad life. He was like a fine
wine, still in a high state of fermentation. He did not
know how to expend his powers, and we often nearly
broke our necks. Fagging all day long on horse-
back, over hedges and ditches, through rivers, up hill
and down hill j and then at night encamping in the
open air, by a fire in the wood ; — this was what he
liked. To have inherited a dukedom was in him
nothing ; but to have taken one by storm, he would
have considered something.
" The poem of c Ilmenau,' " continued Goethe, " con-
tains, as an episode, an epoch which, in the year 1783,
when I wrote it, had happened many years before, so
that I could describe myself in it as an historical per-
sonage, and could hold a conversation with the self of
former years. There occurs in it, as you know, a
nightly scene after one of the break-neck chaces in the
mountain. We had built ourselves at the foot of a
rock some little huts, and covered them with fir
branches, that we might pass the night on dry ground.
Before the huts we burned several fires, and we cooked
and spread out the produce of the chase. Knebel,
whose tobacco pipe was not then cold, sat next to the
fire, and enlivened the company with various dry jokes,
whilst the wine-flask passed from hand to hand.
Sechendorf the slender, with his long thin limbs, had
102 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
comfortably stretched himself out by the trunk of a tree,
and was humming all sorts of poetics. On one side,
in a similar little hut, lay the Grand-Duke, in a deep
slumber. I myself sat before him, by the glimmering
light of the coals, absorbed in various grave thoughts,
suffering accessions of regret for the mischief which
had been done by my writings. Knebel and Sechen-
dorf do not appear to me to be badly drawn, neither
is the young prince, in the gloomy impetuosity of his
twentieth year.
' He hurries onwards, inconsiderate.
No rock appears too steep, no bridge too small,
Ghastly mischances ever on him wait,
And into Pain's hard arms he oft must fall.
The wild unruly impulse in his breast,
Now here, now there, still sets him roving ;
At last he takes his gloomy rest,
When weary of his gloomy moving.
Joyless, though feeling no control,
Sullen, though wild in happiest days,
Wounded and ragged in body and in soul,
On a hard couch his frame he lays '
" That is he exactly. Not the slightest touch is
exaggerated. Nevertheless, the Duke soon worked
himself out of this c storm-and-pressure period/* into a
state of useful clearness, so that on his birthday, in the
year 1783, I could well remind him of this image of his
earlier days.
I will not deny that in the beginning he caused me
«
* The " storm-and-pressure (Sturm und Drang) period" of German
literature, which takes its name from one of Klinger's plays, is that period
of unfettered impulse which is particularly represented by Schiller's
« Robbers."— T/vw.
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. IO3
much trouble and anxiety. Yet his noble nature soon
cleared itself, and formed itself to the highest degree of
perfection, so that it was a pleasure to live and act
with him."
u In these early times you made a tour with him
through Switzerland," remarked I.
" He was fond of travelling altogether," returned
Goethe, " not so much for the sake of amusing him-
self as to have his eyes and ears open, and notice
whatever was good and useful, in order to introduce it
into his own country. On this account, agriculture,
cattle-breeding, and industry altogether, are infinitely
indebted to him. His tendencies were not generally
personal or egotistical, but of a purely productive
kind; and, indeed, productive for the general good.
He has thus acquired a name which has extended far
beyond this little country."
" His careless, simple exterior," said I, " appeared
to intimate that he did not seek renown, and that he
set little store by it. It seemed as if he had become
renowned without any effort of his own, merely by
means of his own passive excellence."
u There is something peculiar in that," returned
Goethe. " Wood burns because it has the proper
stuff for that purpose in it; and a man becomes
renowned because he has the necessary stuff in him.
Renown is not to be sought, and all pursuit of it is
vain. A person may, indeed, by skilful conduct and
various artificial means, make a sort of name for him-
self. But if the inner jewel is wanting, all is vanity,
and will not last a day. Just the same is it with
popular favour. He did not seek it, and he by no
104 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
means flattered people ; but the nation loved him, be-
cause it felt that he had a heart for it."
Goethe then mentioned the other members of the
Grand-Duke's family, and how the mark of a noble
character ran through them all. He spoke of the
benevolence of the present Regent, and of the great
hopes which were entertained of the young Prince,
and expatiated with evident love upon the rare quali-
ties of the now reigning Princess, who, in the noblest
spirit, was applying great means to alleviate sufferings
and to bring forth germs of goodness. u She has
at all times been a good angel to her country," said
he, u and she becomes so more and more the longer
she is united to it. I have known the Grand-Duchess
since the year 1805, and have had many opportunities
of admiring her mind and character. She is one of
the best and most distinguished women of our time,
and would be so if she were not a princess. And this
is the great point, that even when the purple has been
laid aside, much that is great, nay, what is really the
best, still remains."
We then spoke of the unity of Germany, and in
what £ense it was possible and desirable.
u I am not uneasy," said Goethe, " about the unity
of Germany ; our good high roads and future railroads
will of themselves do their part. But, above all, may
Germany be one in love ! and may it always be one
against the foreign foe ! May it be one, so that German
dollars and groschen may be of equal value throughout
the whole empire ! one, so that my travelling-chest may
pass unopened through all the six-and-thirty states !
May it be one, so that the town passport of a citizen of
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 10$
Weimar may not be considered insufficient, like that
of a mere foreigner ■, by the frontier officer of a large
neighbouring state ! May there be no more talk about
inland and outland among the German states ! In
fine, may Germany be one in weight and measure, in
trade and commerce, and a hundred similar things
which I will not name !
" But if we imagine that the unity of Germany
consists in this, that the very great empire should have
a single great capital, and that this one great capital
would conduce to the development of great individual
talent, or to the welfare of the great mass of the people,
we are in error.
" A state has been justly compared to a living body
with many limbs, and thus the capital of a state may be
compared to the heart, from which life and prosperity
flow to the individual members, near and far. But if
the members be very distant from the heart, the life
that flows to them will become weaker and weaker. A
clever Frenchman, I think Dupin, has sketched a chart
of the state of culture in France, and has exhibited the
greater or less enlightenment of the different depart-
ments by a lighter or darker colour. Now, some
departments, particularly in the southern provinces re-
mote from the capital, are represented by a perfectly
black colour, as a sign of the great darkness which
prevails there. But would that be the case if la belle
France^ instead of one great focus, had ten foci,
whence life and light might proceed.
" Whence is Germany great, but by the admirable
culture of the people, which equally pervades all parts
of the kingdom ? But does not this proceed from the
I06 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
various seats of government, and do not these foster
and support it ? Suppose, for centuries past, we had
had in Germany only the two capitals, Vienna and
Berlin, or only one of these, I should like to see how it
would have fared with German culture, or even with
that generally diffused opulence which goes hand in hand
with culture. Germany has about twenty universities
distributed about the whole empire, and about a hun-
dred public libraries similarly distributed. There is
also a great number of collections of art, and collec-
tions of objects belonging to all the kingdoms of nature ;
for every prince has taken care to bring around him
these useful and beautiful objects. There are gym-
nasia and schools for arts and industry in abundance, —
nay, there is scarcely a German village without its
school. And how does France stand with respect to
this last point !
" Then look at the quantity of German theatres, the
number of which exceeds seventy, and which are not
to be despised as supporters and promoters of a higher
cultivation of the people. In no country is the taste
for music and singing, and the practice of it so widely
spread, as in Germany ; and even that is something !
" And now think of such cities as Dresden, Munich,
Stuttgard, Cassel, Brunswick, Hanover, and the like ;
think of the great elements of life comprised within
these cities ; think of the effect which they have upon
the neighbouring provinces ; and ask yourself if all this
would have been the case if they had not for a long
time been the residences of princes ?
" Frankfort, Bremen, Hamburg, and Lübeck, are
great and brilliant ; their effect upon the prosperity of
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. IO7
Germany is incalculable. But would they remain
what they are, if they lost their own sovereignty and
became incorporated with any great German kingdom
as a provincial town ? I see reason to doubt this."
Tuesday, November 18, 1828.
Goethe spoke of a new article in the c< Edinburgh
Review." " It is a pleasure to me/' said he, " to see
the elevation and excellence to which the English
critics now rise. There is not a trace of their former
pedantry, but its place is occupied by great qualities.
In the last article — the one on German literature — you
will find the following remarks : — c There are people
among poets who have a tendency always to occupy
themselves with things which another likes to drive
from his mind.' What say you to this ? There we
know at once where we are, and how we have to
classify a great number of our most modern literati."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, December 3, 1828.
To-day, I had with Goethe a pleasant joke of a very
particular kind. Madame Duval, of Centigny, in the
Canton of Geneva, who is very skilful in preserving,
had sent me, as the produce of her art, some citrons,
for the Grand-Duchess and Goethe j fully convinced
that her preserves as far surpassed all others, as
Goethe's poems did those of most of his German
contemporaries.
The eldest daughter of this lady had long wished for
Goethe's autograph ; it therefore occurred to me that
it would be a good plan to decoy Goethe into writing
108 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1828.
a poem for my young friend, by using the citrons as a
sweet bait.
With the air of a diplomatist charged with an im-
portant mission I went to him, and treated with him
as none power with another, stipulating for an original
poem in his own handwriting, as the price of the
offered citrons. Goethe laughed at this joke, which he
took in very good part, and immediately asked for the
citrons, which he found excellent. A few hours after-
wards, I was much surprised to see the following verses
arrive as a Christmas present to my young friend : —
" That must be a land of bliss
Where the citrons grow like this!
And where ladies find employment
Sweetening them for our enjoyment,** &c.
When I saw him again he joked about the great
advantages which he could now derive from his poetic
profession, whereas in his youth he could not find a pur-
chaser for his " Goetz von Berlichingen." " I adopt
your treaty of commerce/' said he ; " when my citrons
are eaten up do not forget to order some more ; I will
be punctual with my poetic payment."
Tuesday, December 16, 1828.
I dined to-day with Goethe alone, in his work-room.
We talked on various literary topics.
" The Germans," said he, " cannot cease to be
Philistines. They are now squabbling about some
verses, which are printed both in Schiller's works and
mine, and fancy it is important to ascertain which
really belong to Schiller and which to me; as if
anything could be gained by the investigation — as if the
l828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. IO9
existence of the things were not enough« Friends,
such as Schiller and I, intimate for years, with the
same interests, in habits of daily intercourse, and under
reciprocal obligations, live so completely into one
another, that it is hardly possible to decide to which
of the two the particular thoughts belong.
" We have made many distiches together ; some-
times I gave the thought, and Schiller made the verse ;
sometimes the contrary was the case ; sometimes he
made one line, and I the other. What matters the
mine and thine ? One must be a thorough Philistine,
indeed, to attach the slightest importance to the solu-
tion of such questions."
" Something similar," said I, " often happens in the
literary world, when people, for instance, doubt the
originality of this or that celebrated man, and seek to
trace out the sources from whence he obtained his
cultivation."
" That is very ridiculous," said Goethe ; " we might
as well question a strong man about the oxen, sheep,
and swine, which he has eaten, and which have given
him strength.
" We are indeed born with faculties j but we owe
our development to a thousand influences of the great
world, from which we appropriate to ourselves what
we can and what is suitable to us. I owe much to
the Greeks and French ; I am infinitely indebted to
Shakspeare, Sterne, and Goldsmith ; but in saying this
I do not show the sources of my culture ; that would
be an endless as well as an unnecessary task. What
is important is to have a soul which loves truth, and
receives it wherever it finds it.
110 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828*
" Besides, the world is now so old, so many eminent
men have lived and thought for thousands of years,
that there is little new to be discovered or expressed.
Even my theory of colours is not entirely new. Plato,
Leonardo da Vinci, and many other excellent men,
have before me found and expressed the same thing in
a detached form ; my merit is, that I have found it also,
that I have said it again, and that I have striven to
bring the truth once more into a confused world.
<c The truth must be repeated over and over again,
because error is repeatedly preached among us, not
only by individuals, but by the masses. In periodicals
and cyclopaedias, in schools and universities; every-
where, in fact, error prevails, and is quite easy in the
feeling that it has a decided majority on its side.
" Often, too, people teach truth and error together,
and stick to the latter. Thus, a short time ago, I
read in an English cyclopaedia the doctrine of the origin
of Blue. First came the correct view of Leonardo
da Vinci, but then followed, as quietly as possible,
the error of Newton, coupled with remarks that this
was to be adhered to because it was the view generally
adopted."
I could not help laughing with surprise when I
heard this. " Every wax-taper," I said, " every
illuminated cloud of smoke from the kitchen, that has
anything dark behind it, every morning mist, when
it lies before a steady spot, daily convinces me of
the origin of blue colour, and makes me compre-
hend the blueness of the sky. What the Newtonians
mean when they say that the air has the property of
absorbing other colours, and of repelling blue alone, I
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. Ill
cannot at all understand, nor do I see what use or
pleasure is to be derived from a doctrine in which
all thought stands still, and all sound observation com-
pletely vanishes."
"My good innocent friend," said Goethe, " these
people do not care a jot about thoughts and obser-
vations. They are satisfied if they have only words
which they can pass as current, as was well shown,
and not ill-expressed by my own Mephistophiles : —
" Mind, above all, you stick to words,
Thus through the safe gate you will go
Into the fane of certainty $
For when ideas begin to fail
A word will aptly serve your turn/* Sec,
Goethe recited this passage laughing, and seemed
altogether in the best humour. " It is a good thing,"
said he, " that all is already in print, and I shall go on
printing as long as I have anything to say against false
doctrine, and those who disseminate it.
" We have now excellent men rising up in natural
science," he continued, after a pause, " and I am glad
to see them. Others begin well, but afterwards fall
off y their predominating subjectivity leads them astray.
Others, again, set too much value on facts, and collect
an infinite number, by which nothing is proved. On
the whole, there is a want of originating mind to pene-
trate back to the original phenomena, and master the
particulars that make their appearance."
A short visit interrupted our discourse, but when
we were again alone the conversation returned to
poetry, and I told Goethe that I had of late been once
more studying his little poems, and had dwelt especially
112 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
upon two of them, viz., the ballad* about the children
and the old man, and the " Happy Couple" {die glück-
lichen Gatten).
" I myself set some value on these two poems," said
Goethe, " although the German public have hitherto
not been able to make much out of them."
" In the ballad," I said, " a very copious subject is
brought into a very limited compass, by means of all
sorts of poetical forms and artifices, among which I
especially praise the expedient of making the old man tell
the children's past history down to the point where the
present moment comes in, and the rest is developed
before our eyes."
" I carried the ballad a long time about in my head,"
said Goethe, " before I wrote it down. Whole years
of reflection are comprised in it, and I made three or
four trials before I could reduce it to its present shape."
"The poem of the * Happy Couple,' continued
Goethe, " is likewise rich in motives ; whole landscapes
and passages of human life appear in it, warmed by the
sunlight of a charming spring sky, which is diffused
over the whole."
" I have always liked that poem," said Goethe,
" and I am glad that you have regarded it with par-
ticular interest. The ending of the whole pleasantry
with a double christening is, I think, pretty enough."
We then came to the " Burger-general" (Citizen-
general) y with respect to which I said that I had been
lately reading this piece with an Englishman, and that
we had both felt the strongest desire to see it repre-
* This poem is simply entitled " Ballade/* and begins " Herein, O du
Guter ! du Alter herein !" — Trans.
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. II3
sented on the stage. " As far as the spirit of the work is
concerned," said I, " there is nothing antiquated about
it ; and with respect to the details of dramatic develop-
ment, there is not a touch that does not seem designed
for the stage."
u It was a very good piece in its time," said Goethe,
" and caused us many a pleasant evening. It was,
indeed, excellently cast, and had been so admirably
studied that the dialogue moved along as glibly as
possible. Malcomi played Märten, and nothing could
be more perfect.
<c The part of Schnaps," said I, u seems to me no
less felicitous. Indeed, I should not think there were
many better or more thankful parts in the repertoire.
There is in this personage, as in the whole piece, a
clearness, an actual presence, to the utmost extent that
can be desired for a theatre. The scene where he
comes in with the knapsack, and produces the things
one after another, where he puts the moustache on
Marten, and decks himself with the cap of liberty,
uniform, and sword, is among the best."
" This scene," said Goethe, " used always to be very
successful on our stage. Then the knapsack, with the
articles in it, had really an historical existence. I found
it in the time of the Revolution, on my travels along
die French border, when the emigrants, on their flight,
had passed through, and one of them might have lost
it or thrown it away. The articles it contained were
just the same as in the piece. I wrote the scene upon
it, and the knapsack, with all its appurtenances, was
always introduced, to the no small delight of our
actors/ 9
vol. 11* 1
114 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828,
The question, whether the c Bürger-generaP could
still be played with any interest or profit, was for a
while the subject of our conversation.
Goethe then asked about my progress in French
literature, and I told him that I still took up Voltaire
from time to time, and that the great talent of this man
gave me the purest delight.
" I still know but little of him," said I ; " I keep to
his short poems addressed to persons, which I read
over and over again, and which I cannot lay aside."
" Indeed," said Goethe, " all is good which is writ-
ten by so great a genius as Voltaire, though I cannot
excuse all his profanity. But you are right to give so
much time to those little poems addressed to persons ;
they are unquestionably among the most charming of his
works. There is not a line which is not full of *
thought, clear, bright, and graceful."
" And we see," said I, c< his relations to all the
great and mighty of the world, and remark with
pleasure the distinguished position taken by himself,
inasmuch as he seems to feel himself equal to the
highest, and we never find that any majesty can em-
barrass his free mind even for a moment."
" Yes," said Goethe, " he bore himself like a man
of rank. And with all his freedom and audacity, he
ever kept within the limits of strict propriety, which
is, perhaps, saying still more. I may cite the Empress
of Austria as an authority in such matters ; she has
repeatedly assured me, that in those poems of Voltaire's,
there is no trace of crossing the line of convenances
"Does your excellency," said I, " remember the
short poem in which he makes to the Princess of
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. II5
Prussia, afterwards Queen of Sweden, a pretty declara-
tion of love, by saying that he dreamed of being ele-
vated to the royal dignity ? "
" It is one of his best," said Goethe, and he recited
the lines —
" Je vou8 aimais, princesse, et j'osais vous le dire j
Les Dieux ä mon reveil ne m*ont pas tout ot£,
Je n'ai perdu que mon empire.**
" How pretty that is ! And never did poet have his
talent so completely at command every moment as Vol-
taire. I remember an anecdote, when he had been for
some time on a visit to Madame du Chatelet. Just as
he was going away, and the carriage was standing at
the door, he received a letter from a great number of
young girls in a neighbouring convent, who wished to
play the * Death of Julius Caesar' on the birth-day of
their abbess, and begged him to write them a prologue.
The case was too delicate for a refusal ; so Voltaire at
once called for pen and paper, and wrote the desired
prologue, standing, upon the mantel-piece. It is a
poem of perhaps twenty lines, thoroughly digested,
finished, perfectly suited to the occasion, and, in short,
of the very best class."
u I am very desirous to read it," said I.
" I doubt," said Goethe, c< whether you will find it
in your collection. It has only lately come to light,
and, indeed, he wrote hundreds of such poems, of
which many may still be scattered about among private
persons."
" I found of late, a passage in Lord Byron," said I,
" from which I perceived with delight, that even Byron
1 2
Il6 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828.
had an extraordinary esteem for Voltaire. We may
see in his works how much he liked to read, study,
and make use of Voltaire."
" Byron," said Goethe, M knew too well where any-
thing was to be got, and was too clever not to draw
from this universal source of light."
The conversation then turned entirely upon Byron,
and several of his works, and Goethe found occasion
to repeat many of his former expressions of admiration
for that great talent.
" To all that your Excellency says of Byron," said
I, c< I agree from the bottom of my heart ; but, however
great and remarkable that poet may be as a talent, I
very much doubt whether a decided gain for pure
human culture is to be derived from his writings."
" There, I must contradict you," said Goethe ; " the
audacity and grandeur of Byron must certainly tend to-
wards culture. We should take care not to be always
looking for it in the decidedly pure and moral. Every-
thing that is great promotes cultivation as soon as we are
aware of it."
(Sup.) Sunday, December 21, 1828.
Last night I had a strange dream, which I related
to Goethe this evening, and which he thought very
pleasant. I imagined myself in a foreign town, in a
broad street, towards the south-east, where I stood
with a crowd of men, and watched the heavens, which
appeared covered with a light mist, and shone with
the brightest yellow. Every one was full of expecta-
tion as to what would happen, when two fiery points
appeared, which, like meteor stones, fell to the ground
before us with a crash, not far from the spot where we
1828.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. II7
were standing. We hastened to see what had fallen,
and behold ! there stood before me Faust and Me-
phistopheles. I was both delighted and astonished,
and joining them as acquaintance, walked along with
them in cheerful conversation, turning the next corner
of a street.
What we said I do not remember, yet the impres-
sion of their personal appearance was so peculiar, that
it is still perfectly distinct to me, and not easily to be
forgotten. Both were younger than one is accustomed
to consider them ; and, indeed, Mephistopheles might
have been about one-and-twenty years of age, and
Faust about seven-and-twenty. The former appeared
thoroughly gentlemanlike, cheerful, and free; and stepped
along as lightly as any Mercury. His countenance was
handsome, without malice ; and one would not have
discerned that he was the devil, had it not been for two
elegant horns which sprouted from his youthful fore-
head, and turned sideways, just as a beautiful growth of
hair raises itself, and then turns to each side. When,
as we went along, Faust, in speaking, turned his coun-
tenance towards me, I was astonished at the peculiarity
of the expression ; the noblest moral feeling and bene-
volence spoke in every feature, as the prevailing ori-
ginal character of his nature. He appeared as if, in
spite of his youth, all human joys, sorrows, and
thoughts had already passed through his soul, so care-
worn was his countenance. He was rather pale, and
to attractive that one could not look at him enough.
[ endeavoured to impress his features upon my mind,
in order to draw them. Faust walked on the right,
Mephistopheles between us two, and I still retain the
Il8 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1828,
impression of the manner in which Faust turned
his fine peculiar countenance, in order to speak with
Mephistopheles or with me. We went through the
streets, and the crowd dispersed without taking further
notice of us.
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE.
1829.
1
1829.
Wednesday, February 4, 1819.
" I have continued to read Schubart/' said Goethe»
" He is, indeed, a remarkable man, and he says much
that is excellent, if we translate it into our own lan-
guage. The chief tendency of his book is to show
that there is a point of view beyond the sphere of phi-
losophy, — namely, that of common-sense; and that
art and science, independently of philosophy, and by
means of a free action of natural human powers, have
always thriven best. This is grist for our mill. I
have always kept myself free from philosophy. The
common-sense point of view was also mine; and
hence Schubart confirms what I myself have been say-
ing and doing all my life.
" The only thing I cannot commend in him is this,
that he knows certain things better than he will con-
fess, and does not therefore go quite honestly to work.
Like Hegel, he would bring the Christian religion into
philosophy, though it really has nothing to do with it.
Christianity has a might of its own, by which de-
jected, suffering humanity is re-elevated from time to
time, and when we grant it this power, it is raised
above all philosophy, and needs no support therefrom.
122 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
Neither does the philosopher need the countenance of
religion to prove certain doctrines ; as, for instance,
eternal duration, Man should believe in immortality ;
he has a right to this belief; it corresponds with the
wants of his nature, and he may believe in the promises
of religion. But if the philosopher tries to deduce the
immortality of the soul from a legend, that is very
weak and inefficient. To me, the eternal existence of
my soul is proved from my idea of activity; if I
work on incessantly till my death, nature is bound to
give me another form of existence when the present
one can no longer sustain my spirit"
My heart, at these words, beat with admiration and
love.
" Never," thought I, <c was a doctrine spoken more
inciting to noble deeds than this. For who will not
work and act indefatigably to the end of his days,
when he finds therein the pledge of an eternal life ?"
Goethe had a portfolio brought, full of drawings
and engravings. After he had looked at some in
silence, he showed me a fine engraving after a picture
of Ostade's.
" Here," said he, " you have the scene of our good-
man and goodwife."
I looked at the engraving with much pleasure, I
saw the interior of a peasant's dwelling, with kitchen,
parlour, and bed-room, all in one. Man and wife sat
.opposite one another ; the wife spinning, the husband
winding yarn ; a child at their feet. In the back-
ground was a bed, and everywhere there was nothing
but the rudest and most necessary household utensils.
The door led at once into the open air. This idea of
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« I2J
a happy marriage in a very limited condition was per-
fectly conveyed by this engraving; comfort, content,
and a certain luxuriance in the loving emotions of
matrimony, were expressed in the laces of both man
and wife, as they looked upon one another.
" The longer one looks," said I, " at this picture, the
happier one feels ; it has quite a peculiar charm."
" It is the charm of sensuality," said Goethe, " with
which no art can dispense, and which in subjects of
this kind reigns in all its fulness. On the other hand,
in works of a higher kind, when the artist goes into
the ideal, it is difficult to keep up the proper degree of
sensuality, so as not to become dry and cold. Then
youth or age may be favourable or impeding, and hence
the artist should reflect on his age, and select his sub-
jects accordingly. I succeeded with my * Iphigenia*
and ( Tasso, 9 because I was young enough to penetrate
and animate the ideal of the stuff with sensual feeling.
At my present age, such ideal subjects would no longer
be suited to me, and I do right in selecting those which
comprise within themselves a certain degree of sen-
suality. If the Genasts stay here, I shall write two pieces
for you, both in one act and in prose. One will be of
the most cheerful kind, and end with a wedding ; the
other will be shocking and terrible, and two corpses
will be on the stage at the termination. The latter
proceeds from Schiller's time, who wrote a scene of it
at my request. I have long thought over both these
subjects, and they are so completely present to my
mind, that I could dictate either of them in a week, as
I did my c Burger-general.' '*
" Do so/' said I, " write the two pieces at all events •,
124 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
it will be a recreation to you after the " Wanderjahre,"
and will operate like a little journey. And how pleased
the world would be, if, contrary to the expectation of
every one, you did something more for the stage."
c< As I said," continued Goethe, " if the Genasts
stay here, I am not sure that I shall not indulge in this
little pleasantry. But without this prospect there is but
small inducement; for a play upon paper is nought.
The poet must know the means with which he has to
work, and must adapt his characters to the actors who
are to play them. If I can reckon upon Genast and his
wife, and take, besides, La Roche, Herr Winterberger,
and Madame Seidel, I know what I have to do, and
can be certain that my intentions will be carried out.
" Writing for the stage," he continued, w is some-
thing peculiar, and he who does not understand it
thoroughly, had better leave it alone. Every one thinks
that an interesting fact will appear interesting on the
boards, — nothing of the kind ! Things may be very
pretty to read, and very pretty to think about ; but as
soon as they are put upon the stage the effect is quite
different, and that which has charmed us in the closet
will probably fall flat on the boards. If any one
reads my c Hermann and Dorothea,' he thinks it might
be brought out at the theatre. Töpfer has been in-
veigled into the experiment ; but what is it, what effect
does it produce, especially if it is not played in a first-
rate manner, and who can say that it is in every respect
a good piece ? Writing for the stage is a trade that
one must understand, and requires a talent that one
must possess. Both are uncommon, and where they are
not combined, we shall scarcely have any good result."
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 1 25
Monday, February 9, 1829.
Goethe talked of the " Wahlverwandtschaften,"
especially remarking, that a person whom he had never
seen or known in his life had supposed the character of
Mittler to be meant for himself.
" There must," said he, " be some truth in the
character, and it must have existed more than once in
the world. Indeed, there is not a line in the ( Wahl-
verwandtschaften' that is not taken from my own ex-
perience, and there is more in it than can be gathered
by any one from a first reading."
Tuesday, February 10, 1829»
I found Goethe surrounded by maps and plans refer-
ring to the building of the Bremen harbour, for which
great undertaking he showed an especial interest.
There was then much talk about Merck, and Goethe
read me a poetical epistle written from Merck to Wie-
land in 1 776, in very spirited but somewhat hard, doggrel
verse (Knüttelverse). The lively production is espe-
cially directed against Jacobi, whom Wieland seems to
have over-estimated in a critique in the Merkur — a
fault which Merck cannot pardon.
We then talked of the state of culture at the time,
and how difficult it was to emerge from the so-called
storm-and-pressure period to a higher culture j of his
first years in Wiemar ; of the poetic talent in conflict
with the reality, which he, from his position at court,
and the various sorts of service demanded of him, was,
for his own higher advantage, obliged to encounter.
Hence nothing poetical of importance was produced
I2Ö CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829*
during the first ten years. He read several fragments,
and showed how he was saddened by love affairs, and
how his father always was impatient of the court-life.
Then we came to the advantage that he did not
change his place of abode, and was not obliged to go
twice through the same experience; then came his
flight to Italy, in order to revive his poetic power, —
the superstitious fancy that he would not succeed if any
one knew about it, and the profound secrecy in con-
sequence; how he wrote to the Grand Duke from
Rome, and returned from Italy with great requisitions
upon himself.
Next we talked of the Duchess Amelia — a perfect
princess, with perfectly sound sense, and an inclination
for the enjoyment of life. She was very fond of
Goethe's mother, and wished her to come to Weimar,
but he opposed it.
Then about the first beginnings of " Faust." —
a * Faust* sprang up at the same time with * Werther.*
I brought it with me in 1775 to Weimar; I had
written it on letter-paper, and had not made an erasure,
for I took care not to write down a line that was not
worthy to remain."
Wednesday, February 11, 1829.
Oberbau-DirectorCoudray dined with me at Goethe's
house. He spoke much of the Female School of In-
dustry and the Orphan's Institute, as the best establish-
ments in their kind of this country. The first was
founded by the Grand Duchess ; the latter by the
Grand Duke, Charles Augustus. Much was said
about theatrical decoration and road-making. Coudray
showed Goethe a sketch for a prince's chapel. With
iSig.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. *27
respect to the place of the ducal chair, Goethe made
some objections, to which Coudray yielded.
Soret came after dinner. Goethe showed us once
more the pictures of Herr von Reutern.
Thursday, February 12, 1829.
Goethe read me the thoroughly noble poem, " Kein
Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen" (No being can dis-
solve to nothing), which he had lately written.
<c I wrote this poem," said he, " in contradiction to
my lines —
' Denn alles muss zu nichts zerrallen
Wenn es im Seyn beharren will,* See.
' For all must melt away to nothing
Would it continue stall to be 5'
which are stupid, and which my Berlin friends, on the
occasion of the late assembly of natural philosophers,
set up in golden letters, to my annoyance."
The conversation turned on the great mathematician,
Lagrange, whose excellent character Goethe highly ex-
tolled.
" He was a good man," said he, " and on that very
account, a great man. For when a good man is gifted
with talent, he always works morally for the salvation
of the world, as poet, philosopher, artist, or in what-
ever way it may be.
" I am glad," continued Goethe, " that you had an
opportunity yesterday of knowing Coudray better. He
says little in general society, but, here among ourselves,
you have seen what an excellent mind and character
reside in the man. He had, at first, much opposition
to encounter, but he has now fought through it all,
128 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
and enjoys the entire confidence and favour of the
court. Coudray is one of the most skilful architects
of our time. He has adhered to me and I to him, and
this has been of service to us both. If I had but known
him fifty years ago ! "
We then talked about Goethe's own architectural
knowledge. I remarked that he must have acquired
much in Italy.
" Italy gave me an idea of earnestness and great-
ness," said he, " but no practical skill. The building of
the castle here in Weimar advanced me more than any-
thing. I was obliged to assist, and even to make draw-
ings of entablatures. I had a certain advantage over
the professional people, because I was superior to them
in intention."
We talked of Zelter.
<c I have a letter from him," said Goethe, " in which
he complains that the performance of the oratorio of
the Messiah was spoiled for him by one of his female
scholars, who sang an aria too weakly and senti-
mentally. Weakness is a characteristic of our age.
My hypothesis is, that it is a consequence of the
efforts made in Germany to get rid of the French.
Painters, natural philosophers, sculptors, musicians,
poets, with but few exceptions, all are weak, and the
general mass is no better."
c< Yet I do not give up the hope," said I, " of seeing
suitable music composed for * Faust.'"
cc Quite impossible ! " said Goethe. " The awful
and repulsive passages which must occasionally occur,
are not in die style of the time. The music should
be like that of Don Juan. Mozart should have
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 1 29
composed for ' Faust.' Meyerbeer would, perhaps, be
capable ; but he would not touch anything of the kind ;*
he is too much engaged with the Italian theatres."
Afterwards, — I do not recollect in connection to what
— Goethe made the following important remark : —
" All that is great and skilful exists with the mi-
nority. There have been ministers who have had both
king and people against them, and have carried out
their great plans alone. It is not to be imagined that
reason can ever be popular. Passions and feelings may
become popular; but reason always remains the sole
property of a few eminent individuals."
Friday, February 13, 1829.
Dined with Goethe alone.
" After I have finished the 4 Wanderjahre,' " said he,
" I shall turn to botany again to continue the transla-
tion with Soret ; I only fear it may lead me too far,
and at last prove an incubus. Great secrets still lie
hidden ; much I know, and of much I have an intima-
tion. I will confide something to you that will sound
odd.
" The plant goes from knot to knot, closing at last
with the flower and the seed. In the animal kingdom
it is not otherwise. The caterpillar and the tape-worm
goes from knot to knot, and at last forms a head.
With the higher animals and man, the vertebral bones
grow one upon another, and terminate with the head,
in which the powers are concentrated.
* It must be borne in mind that this was said before the appearance of
n Robert le Diable," which was first produced in Paris, in November 183 1.
-—-Trans.
VOL. II. K
130 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
" With corporations it is the same as with individuals.
The bees, a series of individuals, connected one with
another, at least as a community, produce something,
which is the conclusion, and may be regarded as the
head of the whole — the queen-bee. How this is man-
aged is a mystery, hard to be expressed, but I may
say that I have my thoughts upon it.
" Thus does a nation bring forth its heroes, who
stand at the head like demigods to protect and save.
Thus were the poetic powers of the French concen-
trated in Voltaire.' Such heads of a nation are great in
the generation in which they work ; many last longer,
but the greater part have their places supplied by others,
and are forgotten by posterity."
I was pleased with these remarkable thoughts.
Goethe then spoke of the natural philosophers, with
whom the great point was to prove their opinion.
" Herr von Buch," said he, u has published a new
book, which contains a hypothesis in its very title.
He has to treat of the blocks of granite which are
scattered about in various directions, without our know-
ing how or whence they came. But as Herr von
Buch entertains the hypothesis that such blocks have
been cast forth, and shivered by some internal force,
he indicates this in his title, by making mention of dis-
persed (Zerstreut) granite-blocks, so that the step to
dispersion (Zerstreuung) is very short, and the unsus-
pecting reader finds himself in the toils of error he does
not know how.
" One must be old to see all this, and have money
enough to pay for one's experience. Every bon mot
that I utter costs me a purseful of money ; half a
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 131
million of my private fortune has passed through my
hands that I might learn what I know now ; — not only
the whole of my father's fortune, but my own salary,
and my large literary income for more than fifty years.
I have, besides, seen a million and a half expended
for great objects by the princes, with whom I have
been intimately connected, and in whose progress, suc-
cess, and failure, I have been interested.
"More than mere talent is required to become a
proficient. One must also live amid important cir-
cumstances, and have an opportunity of watching the
cards held by the players of the age, and of participat-
ing in their gain and loss.
" Without my attempts in natural science, I should
never have learned to know mankind such as it is. In
nothing else can we so closely approach pure contem-
plation and thought, so closely observe the errors of
the senses and of the understanding, the weak and the
strong points of character. All is more or less pliant
and wavering, is more or less manageable ; but nature
understands no jesting ; she is always true, always seri-
ous, always severe ; she is always right, and the errors
and faults are always those of man. Him, who is in-
capable of appreciating her, she despises ; and only to
the apt, the pure, and the true, does she resign herself,
and reveal her secrets.
" The understanding will not reach her ; man must
be capable of elevating himself to the highest Reason,
to come into contact with the Divinity, which mani-
fests itself in the primitive phenomena {JJrphenomenen\
which dwells behind them, and from which they pro-
ceed.
K 2
» ■« -^m^^m-^^mi^mmi^^mmm^Bm^^^—m^^mmmmimm
I32 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
" The divinity works in the living not in the dead ;
in the becoming and changing, not in the become
and the fixed. Therefore reason, with its tendency
towards the divine, has only to do with the becoming,
the living; but understanding with the become, the
already fixed, that it N may make use of it.
" Hence, mineralogy is a science for the understand-
ing, for practical life; for its subjects are something
dead, which cannot rise again, and there is no room for
synthesis.
" The subjects of meteorology are, indeed, some-
thing living, which we daily see working and produc-
ing ; they presuppose a synthesis, only so many are
the co-operating circumstances, that man is not equal
to this synthesis, and therefore uselessly wearies himself
in observations and inquiries. We steer by hypo-
theses to imaginary islands ; but the proper synthesis
will probably remain an undiscovered country ; and I
do not wonder at this, when I consider how difficult
it is to obtain any synthesis even in such simple things
as plants and colours."
Sunday, February 15, 1829.
Goethe received me with much praise, on account of
my arrangement of the natural-historical aphorisms for
the " Wanderjahre." u Devote yourself to nature,"
said he ; " you are born for that purpose, and as the
next task, write, a compendium of the c Theory of
Colours.' " We spoke much on this subject.
A chest arrived from the Lower Rhine, containing
some antique coins which had been dug up, minerals,
small cathedral-figures, and carnival-poems, all of
which were unpacked after dinner.
1829*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 133
Tuesday, February 17, 1829.
We talked a great deal about Goethe's " Gross-
kophta."
"Lavater," said Goethe, "believed in Cagliostro
and his wonders. When the impostor was unmasked,
Lavater maintained, ' This is another Cagliostro, the
Cagliostro who did the wonders was a holy person.'
" Lavater was a truly good man, but subject to
strong delusions ; the whole sole truth was not to his
mind ; he deceived himself and others. This made a
perfect breach between him and me. The last time I
saw him was in Zurich ; and he did not see me. I
was coming in disguise down an avenue 5 seeing him
approach, I stepped aside, and he passed without re-
cognising me. He walked like a crane, and therefore
figures as a crane on the Blocksberg." *
I asked whether Lavater had a tendency to observe
nature, as we might almost infer from the "Physio-
gnomy."
" Not in the least," said Goethe. " His tendency
was wholly towards the moral — the religious. That
part of his ' Physiognomy' which relates to the skulls
ofanimalshegotfromme."
The conversation turned upon the French — upon
the lectures of Guizot, Villemain, and Cousin. Goethe
spoke with high esteem of the point of view taken by
these men; saying that they observed everything on
a free and new side, and always went straight to their
aim.
" It is," said Goethe, " as if till now we had reached
♦ That is to say, in the intermetzo Li " Faust."— -Tr««*.
mmt^^^mwn i u
I34 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
a garden through roundabout, crooked ways ; these
men, however, have been bold and free enough to pull
down a wall, and put a door, so that we get at once
into the broadest walk of the garden."
From Cousin we passed to Indian philosophy.
" This philosophy," said Goethe, " if what the
Englishman tells us is true, has nothing foreign, but,
on the contrary, the epochs through which we all pass
are repeated in it. When we are children, we are
sensualists ; idealists when we love, and attribute to
the beloved object qualities which she does not naturally
possess. Love wavers ; we doubt her fidelity, and
are sceptics before we think of it. The rest of life is
indifferent ; we let it go as it will, and end, like the
Indian philosophers, with quietism.
" In the German philosophy there are still two great
works to do. Kant did an infinite deal, by writing the
c Critique of Pure Reason ; ' but the circle is not yet
complete. Now, some able man should write the
c Critique of the Senses and Understanding of Man ; *
and, if this could be as well done, we should have little
more to desire in German philosophy.
u Hegel," continued Goethe, " has written, in the
Berlin Jahrbücher ', a criticism upon Hamann, which I,
of late, have read over and over again, and must highly
praise. Hegel's judgments as a critic have always been
excellent.
" Villemain, too, stands very high in criticism. The
French will, indeed, never see another talent to cope with
Voltaire ; but we can say of Villemain, that he is so far
elevated above Voltaire by his intellectual point of view,
as to be able to judge him in his virtues and his faults."
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I35
Wednesday, February 18, 1829.
We talked of the Theory of Colours, and among
other things about drinking glasses, the dull figures on
which appear yellow against the light, and blue against
the dark, and therefore allow the observation of a pri-
mitive phenomenon.
" The highest which man can attain in these mat-
ters," said Goethe, on this occasion, " is astonishment ;
if the primary phenomenon causes this, let him be
satisfied ; more it cannot bring ; and he should forbear
to seek for anything further behind it : here is the limit.
But the sight of a primitive phenomenon is generally
not enough for people 5 they think they must go still
further ; and are thus like children who, after peeping
into a mirror, turn it round directly to see what is on
the other side."
The conversation turned upon Merck, and I asked
whether he had ever meddled with natural science.
" Yes," said Goethe, " he had even fine collections.
Merck was altogether an extremely many-sided man.
He loved art also 5 and if he saw a good work in the
hands of a Philistine, of whom he thought that he did
not know how to value it, he used every means to get
•it for his own collection. In such matters, he had no
conscience ; he considered all means fair, and did not
despise even a sort of sublime fraud, if he could not
attain his object otherwise."
Goethe related some interesting examples of this
peculiarity.
" A man like Merck," continued he, u will not again
be born, and if he were, the world would model him
into a very different person. That was a good time
wrwtm
I36 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« £1829.
when Merck and I were young ! German literature
was yet a clean tablet, on which one hoped to paint
good things with pleasure. Now, it is so scribbled
over and soiled, that there is no pleasure in looking at
it, and a wise man does not know whereabouts he can
inscribe anything."
Thursday, February 19, 1829.
Dined with Goethe tete-a-tete in his work-room.
He was very cheerful, and told me that much which
was good had lately befallen him, and that an affair with
Artaria and the court had come to a happy termi-
nation. 1
We then talked a great deal about " Egmont,"
which had been represented, according to Schiller's
version, on the preceding evening, and the injury done to
the piece by this version was brought under discussion.
" For many reasons," said I, u the Regent should
not have been omitted ; on the contrary, she is tho-
roughly necessary to the piece. Not only does this
princess impart to the whole a higher, nobler character,
but the political relations especially of the Spanish
court are brought much more clearly to view by her
conversation with Machiavelli."
" Unquestionably," said Goethe. " And then Eg-
mont gains in dignity from the lustre which the partiality
of this princess casts upon him, while Clara also seems
exalted when we see that, vanquishing even princesses,
she alone has all Egmont's love. These are very deli-
cate effects, which cannot be obliterated without com-
promising the whole."
" It seems to me, too," said I,* " that where there
are so many important male parts, a single female per-
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 137
sonage like Clara appears too weak and somewhat over-
powered. By means of the Regent the picture is
better balanced. It is not enough that the Regent is
talked of; her personal entrance makes the im-
pression."
" You judge rightly," said Goethe. " When I
wrote the piece I well weighed everything, as you may
imagine; and hence it is no wonder that the whole
materially suffers, when a principal figure is torn out
of it, which has been conceived for the sake of the
whole, and through which the whole exists. But
Schiller had something violent in his nature ; he often
acted too much according to a preconceived idea, with-
out sufficient regard to the subject which he had to
treat."
" You may be blamed also," said I, " for allowing
the alteration, and granting him such unlimited liberty
in so important a matter." N %
" We often act more from indifference than kind-
ness," replied Goethe. " Then, at that time, I was
deeply occupied with other things. I had no interest
for Egmont or for the stage, so I let Schiller have his
own way. Now it is, at any rate, a consolation for
me that the work exists in print, and that there are
theatres where people are wise enough to perform it,
as it is written, without abbreviation."
Goethe then asked me about the Theory of Colours,
and whether I had thought any more of his proposal
to write a compendium. I told him how the matter
stood, and we fell unadvisedly into a difference of
opinion, which I will describe, on account of the im-
portance of the subject.
I38 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
Whoever has made the observation, will recollect
that on a clear winter's day, and in the sunlight, the
shadows cast upon the snow frequently appear blue.
This is classed by Goethe, in his Theory of Colours,
under the subjective phenomena, for he assumes as a
principle that the sunlight comes down to us — who do
not live on high mountain-tops — not perfectly white,
but, penetrating through an atmosphere more or less
misty, has a yellowish lustre 5 so that the snow, when
the sun shines upon it, is not perfectly white, but is a
surface tinged with yellow, which charms the eye to
opposition, and therefore to the production of the blue
colour. The blue shadow seen upon the snow is,
according to this view, a demanded colour^* under which
rubric Goethe places the phenomenon, and then very
consistently explains the observations made by Saussure
on Mount Blanc.
When of late I again looked over the first chapters
of the Theory of Colours, to try whether I could act
upon Goethe's friendly proposal, and write a Compen-
dium of the Theory, I was enabled by the snow and
sunshine to observe more closely the phenomenon of
the blue shadow, and found to my astonishment that
Goethe's inference was founded on error. How I
came by this discovery I will explain.
The windows of my apartment look due south upon
a garden, bounded by a building, which, from the lower
altitude of the sun in winter, casts towards me a
shadow long enough to cover half the garden.
I looked upon this broad shadow on the snow some
* " Geforderte Farbe," that is to say, a colour called forth by the eye
itself, according to Goethe's peculiar theory, as explained above. — Trans.
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 139
days ago, while the sky was quite blue and the sun was
bright, and was astonished to see the whole surface
perfectly blue. " This," said I to myself, " cannot be
a i demanded colour,' for my eye is not brought into
contact with any surface of snow illumined by the sun,
so that the required contrast could be produced. On
the contrary, I see nothing but the expanse of blue
shadow." However, to be quite certain and to pre-
vent the dazzling light of the neighbouring houses from
affecting my eye, I rolled up a sheet of paper, and
looked through it on the shaded surface, when I found
that the blue remained unaltered.
That this blue shadow could be nothing subjective
was now established in my mind beyond a doubt. There
stood the colour, without me, independent — my sub-
ject had no influence upon it. But what was it ?
And as it was certainly there, how was it produced ?
I looked once more, and, behold, the riddle was
solved for me ! " What can it be," said I to myself,
" but the reflection of the blue sky, which is brought
down by the shade, and has an inclination to settle
there? For it is written— Colour is akin to shade,
readily combines with it, and readily appears to us in
it and by it, as soon as an occasion is presented."
The following days gave me an opportunity to con-
firm my hypothesis. I walked about the fields ; there
was no blue sky, the sun shone through foggy mists,
and spread a perfectly yellow light over the snow. It
was strong enough to cast a decided shadow, and in
this case, according to Goethe's doctrine, the brightest
blue should have been produced. However, there was
no blue ; the shadows remained gray.
I4O CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
On the following forenoon, when the atmosphere
was cloudy, the sun peeped out from time to time,
and cast decided shadows upon the snow. Again,
they were not blue, but gray. In both cases the
reflection of the blue sky was wanting to give the
shadow its colour.
I was thus sufficiently convinced that Goethe's de-
duction of this natural phenomenon was proved to be
fallacious, and that the paragraphs in the " Theory of
Colours" which treated of this subject were much in
need of modification.
Something similar occurred to me with the coloured
double shadows, which are seen to peculiar advantage
by taperlight at break of day, or at the beginning of
evening twilight, as well as by a clear moonlight.
That one of the shadows, namely the yellow one,
shone upon by the taperlight is of an objective kindj
and belongs to the doctrine of dense media, Goethe
has not expressly said, although such is the case j the
other one, the bluish or bluish-green shadow, shone
upon by the purest day or moon light, he declares to be
subjective — a " demanded colour," produced in the eye
by the yellow light of the taper diffused over the white
paper.
Now, on a careful observation of the phenomenon,
I did not find this doctrine thoroughly confirmed. On
the contrary, it appeared to me that the weak day or
moon light, acting from without, already brought with
it a bluish tone, which is strengthened partly by the
shadow, partly by the " demanding " {/ordernd) yellow
light of the taper, and that therefore we have an objec-
tive foundation here also.
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I4I
That the dawning day and the moon cast a pale light
is well known. A countenance seen at break of day,
or by moonlight, appears pale, as is sufficiently proved
by experiment. Shakspeare seems to have been aware
of this fact, for in that remarkable passage, where
Romeo leaves his beloved at daybreak, and he and
Juliet suddenly appear so pale to each other, the
observation of it must assuredly have served as a
foundation. The operation of this light in producing
paleness would of itself be a sufficient indication that
it must bring with it a greenish or bluish tinge, since
it has precisely the same effect as a mirror of bluish
or greenish glass. The following may serve as a
further confirmation ;— ~
Light, as seen by the mind's eye, may be conceived
as completely white ; but the empirical light, as per-
ceived by the corporeal eye, is seldom seen in such
purity. On the contrary, it has a tendency to take
either the plus or the minus side, and to appear with
either a yellowish or a bluish tone. In this case, the
immediate sunlight, as well as the taperlight, in-
clines decidedly to the plus side — the yellowish 5 but
the light of the moon, as well as that of dawn and
evening twilight, neither of which are direct, but only
reflected, and are further modified by twilight and
night, incline to the passive — the minus side, and have
a bluish tone to the eye.
Let any one place a sheet of white paper in the twi-
light or moonlight, so that one-half of it may be shone
upon by the day or moon light, and the other by the
taperlight, then one-half will have a bluish, the other
a yellowish tone > and both lights, without any addi-
'1
I
142 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
tion of shade, or any subjective heightening, will have
already ranged themselves on the active or the passive
side.
The result of my observations, therefore, was, that
even Goethe's doctrine of the coloured double shadow
was not thoroughly correct ; that in the production of
this phenomenon there was more of the objective than
he had observed, and that the law of subjective a de-
mand " (Forderung) could be looked upon as merely
secondary.
Indeed, generally, if the human eye were so sensi-
tive and susceptible, that at the slightest contact of one
colour it had an immediate tendency to produce the
opposite, it would be constantly transferring one colour
into another, so that the most unpleasant mixture
would arise.
Fortunately, however, this is not the case ; but, on
the contrary, a healthy eye is so organized that it either
does not observe the " demanded " colours, or if its
attention is directed towards them, produces them
with difficulty ; indeed this operation requires some
practice and dexterity before it can succeed even under
favourable circumstances.
What is really characteristic in such subjective pheno-
mena, viz., that the eye to a certain extent requires a
strong incitement to produce them, and that when
they are produced they have no permanence, but are
transient and quickly feding, has been too little regarded
by Goethe, both in the case of the blue shadow in the
snow, and in that of the coloured double-shadow, for
in both cases the surface in question has a scarcely
perceptible tinge, and in both cases the " demanded"
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* I43
colour appears decidedly marked at the very first
glance.
But Goethe, with his adherence to a law he had once
recognised, and with his maxim of applying it even in
such cases where it seems concealed, could easily be
tempted to extend a synthesis too far, and to discern a
favourite law even in cases where a totally different
influence is at work.
When to-day he spoke of his Theory of Colours,
and asked how the proposed compendium was going on,
I would willingly have passed over my new discoveries in
silence, for I felt in some perplexity as to how I should
tell him the truth without offending him.
Nevertheless, as I was really in earnest with respect
to the compendium, it was necessary to remove all
errors, and to rectify all misunderstandings, before I
could make a sure progress in the task.
All that I could do was to make the frank confession
to him that, after careful observation, I found myself
compelled to differ from him in some points, inasmuch
as I found that neither his deduction of the blue shadow
in the snow, nor his doctrine of the coloured double-
shadow, was completely confirmed.
I communicated to him my thoughts and observa-
tions 5 but as I have not the gift of describing objects
fully and clearly by word of mouth, I confined myself
to a statement of the results of my observation, without
going into a more minute explanation of details, intend-
ing to do this in writing.
However, I had scarcely opened my mouth, when
Goethe's sublimely-serene countenance became clouded
over, and I saw but too clearly that he did not approve
of my objections.
144 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
u Truly," said I, " he who would get the better of
your Excellency must rise early in the morning ; but
yet it is possible that the wise may go too far, and the
foolish find the spoil."
" As if, forsooth, you had found it," returned Goethe,
with an ironical laugh ; " with your idea of coloured
light you belong to the fourteenth century, and with all
the rest you are in the very abyss of dialectics. The
only thing good about you is that you are, at any
rate, honest enough to speak out plainly what you
think.
u My Theory of Colours," he continued, u fares
just the same as the Christian religion. One fancies,
for a while, that one has faithful disciples - 9 but, before
one is aware, they fall off and form a new sect. You
are a heretic like the rest, for you are not the first that
has apostatized. I have feilen out with the most
excellent men about contested points in the Theory of
Colours, viz., with — — about , and with — —-
about ." Here he mentioned some names of
eminence.
We had now finished eating, conversation came to a
stand-still, and Goethe rose and placed himself against
the window. I went up to him and pressed his hand,
for I loved him in spite of his taunts, and I felt,
moreover, that I was right, and that he was the suffer-
ing party.
Before long, we were again talking and joking about
indifferent subjects ; but when I went to him, and told
him that he should have my objections in writing for
a closer examination, and that the only reason he did
not agree with me lay in the clumsiness of my verbal
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I45
statement, he could not help, half-laughing and half-
sneering, to throw in my teeth something about heretics
and heresy at the very doorway.
If it should appear strange that Goethe could not
readily bear contradiction with respect to his Theory
of Colours, while with respect to his poetical works
he always showed himself perfectly easy, and heard
every well-founded objection with thanks, we may
perhaps solve the riddle by reflecting that, as a poet,
he received the most perfect satisfaction from without,
while, by the Theory of Colours, the greatest and most
difficult of his works, he had gained nothing but cen-
sure and disapproval. During half a life he had been
annoyed by the most senseless opposition on every side,
and it was natural enough that he should always find
himself in a sort of irritable polemic position, and be
always fully armed for a passionate conflict.
His feeling for the Theory of Colours was like that
of a mother who loves an excellent child all the more
the less it is esteemed by others.
" As for what I have done as a poet," he would
repeatedly say to me, " I take no pride in it whatever.
Excellent poets have lived at the same time with
myself, poets more excellent have lived before me, and
others will come after me. But that in my century I
am the only person who knows the truth in the difficult
science of colours — of that, I say, I am not a little
proud, and here I have a consciousness of a superiority
to many."
Friday, February 20, 1829.
Dined with Goethe. He is pleased at having finished
VOL. 11. L
I46 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
the " Wanderjahre," which he will send off to-morrow.
In the Theory of Colours he is coming over a little to
my opinion concerning the blue shadow in the snow.
He talked of his " Italian journey," which he had
again taken under consideration.*
******
He then talked about the fourth volume of his Life,
and the method in which he would treat it ; saying that
my notes on the year 1824, concerning what he had
already executed and planned, would be highly useful
to him.
He read Göttling's journal aloud, which treats of the
former fencing-masters at Jena in a very kindly spirit.
Goethe speaks very well of Göttling.
Monday, March 23, 1829.
" I have found a paper of mine among some others,"
said Goethe to-day, "in which I call architecture
4 petrified music.' Really there is something in this ;
the tone of mind produced by architecture approaches
the effect of music.
" Splendid edifices and apartments are for princes
and kingdoms. Those who live in them feel at ease
and contented, and desire nothing further.
" To my own nature this is quite repugnant. In a
splendid abode, like that which I had at Carlsbad, I am
at once lazy and inactive. On the contrary, a small
residence, like this poor apartment in which we now
are, and where a sort of disorderly order — a sort of
gipsy-fashion — prevails, suits me exactly. It allows my
* There is no occasion to explain the slight omission here.«— Tram»
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« I47
inner nature full liberty to act, and to create from itself
alone."
We talked of Schiller's letters, the life which he and
Goethe had led together, and how the two had daily
incited each other to activity.
" Even in c Faust,' " said I, " Schiller seems to
have taken great interest ; it is pleasant to see how he
urges you, or allows himself to be misled by his idea of
continuing 'Faust' himself. I perceive by this that
there was something precipitate in his nature."
" You are right," said Goethe, " he was like all
men who proceed too much from the idea. Then he
Was never in repose, and could never have done; as
you may see by his letters on c Wilhelm Meister,'
which he would have now this way, and now that way,
I had enough to do to stand my ground, and keep
his works and mine free from such influences."
u I have," said I, " been reading this morning his
c Indian Death Dirge/ and have been delighted with its
excellence."
" You see," said Goethe, " what a great artist
Schiller was, and how he could manage even the ob-
jective, when brought traditionally before his eyes.
That c Indian Death Song ' is certainly one of his very
best poems, and I only wish he had made a dozen like
it. And yet— can you believe it ! — his nearest friends
found fault with this poem, thinking it was not suffi-
ciently tinctured with his ideality. Yes, my good
fellow, such things one has to suffer from one's friends.
Humboldt * found fault with my Dorothea, because,
when assailed by the soldiers, she took up arms and
* Wilhelm von Humboldt — Trans.
L 2
I48 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
fought. And yet, without that trait, the character of
the extraordinary girl, so adapted to the time and
circumstances, is at once destroyed, and she sinks
into commonplace. But the longer you live, the more
you will see how few men are capable of appreciating
what must be, and that, on the contrary, they only
praise, and would only have that which is suitable to
themselves. These of whom I spoke were the first
and best; so you may judge what was the opinion
of the multitude, and how, in fact, I always stood
alone.
" Had I not had some solid foundation in the plastic
arts and natural science, I should scarce have kept
myself up in that evil time, and its daily influences ; but
this was my protection, and enabled me to aid Schiller
also."
Tuesday, March 24, 1829.
" The higher a man is," said Goethe, " the more he
is under the influence of demons, and he must take
heed lest his guiding will counsel him to a wrong
path.
" There was altogether something demoniac in
my acquaintance with Schiller ; we might have been
brought together earlier or later; but that we met
just at the time when I had finished my Italian journey,
and Schiller began to be weary of philosophical specu-
lation, — this, I say, led to very important consequences
for us both."
Thursday, April 2, 1829.
" I will discover to you," said Goethe, to-day at
dinner, " a political secret, which will sooner or later be
made public. Capo d'Istria cannot long continue to be
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I49
at the head of Grecian affairs, for he wants one quality
indispensable for such a position ; he is no soldier.
There is no instance of a mere cabinet statesman being
able to organize a revolutionary state, and bring the
military and their leaders under his control. With the
sabre in his hand, at the head of an army, a man may
command and give laws, secure of being obeyed ; but
without this the attempt is hazardous. Napoleon, if
he had not been a soldier, could never have attained
the highest power; and Capo d'Istria will not long
keep the first place, but will very soon play a secon-
dary part. I tell you this beforehand, and you will see
it come. It lies in the nature of things, and must
happen."
Goethe then talked much about the French, espe-
cially Cousin, Villemain, and Guizot.
" These men," said he, u look into, through, and
round* a subject, with great success. They combine
perfect knowledge of the past with the spirit of the
nineteenth century ; and the result is wonderful."
We then came to the newest French poets, and the
meaning of the terms " classic" and " romantic."
" A new expression occurs to me," said Goethe,
" which does not ill define the state of the case.
I call the classic healthy ^ the romantic sickly. In
this sense, the c Nibelungenlied' is as classic as the
* Iliad,' for both are vigorous and healthy. Most
modern productions are romantic, not because they are
new, but because they are weak, morbid, and sickly ;
and the antique is classic, not because it is old, but
* This felicitous rendering of " Einsicht, Umsicht, and Durchsicht," is
by Mrs. Fuller. — Trans.
150 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
because it is strong, fresh, joyous, and healthy. If we
distinguish c classic ' and i romantic ' by these quali-
ties, it will be easy to see our way clearly."
The conversation turned upon the imprisonment of
Beranger —
" He is rightly served," said Goethe. " His late
poems are really contrary to all order; and he has
fully deserved punishment by his offences against king,
state, and peaceful citizenship. His early poems, on
the contrary, are cheerful and harmless, and are well
adapted to make a circle of gay and happy people,
which, indeed, is the best that can be said of songs."
" I am sure," said I, " that he has been injured by
the society in which he lives, and that, to please his
revolutionary friends, he has said many things which he
otherwise would not have said. Your excellency
should fulfil your intention of writing a chapter on
influences ; the subject is the richer and more impor-
tant, the more one thinks of it."
" It is only too rich," said Goethe 5 " for in truth
all is influence except ourselves."
" We have only to see," said I, u whether an
influence is injurious or beneficial — whether it is suit-
able or repugnant to our nature."
" That is indeed the point," said Goethe, u but the
difficulty is for our better nature to maintain itself
vigorously, and not to allow the demons more power
than is due."
At dessert, Goethe had a laurel, in full flower, and a
Japanese plant, placed before us on the table. I re-
marked what different feelings were excited by the
two plants ; that the sight of the laurel produced a
1829O CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I5I
cheerful, light, mild, and tranquil mood, but that of the
Japanese plant, one of barbaric melancholy.
" You are not wrong," said Goethe ; u and hence
great influence over the inhabitants of a country has
been conceded to its vegetation. And, surely, he who
passes his life surrounded by solemn, lofty oaks, must
be a different man from him who lives among airy
birches. Still we must remember that men, in general,
have not such sensitive natures as we, but vigorously
pursue their own course of life without allowing so
much power to external impressions. Nevertheless,
this much is certain, — that not only* the inborn pecu-
liarities of a race, but soil and climate, aliment and
occupation, combine to form the character of a people.
It is also to be borne in mind, that the primitive
races mostly took possession of a soil that pleased
them; and, consequently, where the country was
already in harmony with their own inborn character."
" Just look round," continued Goethe ; " behind
you, on the desk, there is a paper which I wish you to
look at."
" This blue envelope ?" said I.
" Yes," said he. " Now, what do you say to the
handwriting ? Is it not that of a man who felt him-
self noble and free, as he wrote the address ? Whose
do you think it is ? "
I looked at the paper with partiality. The hand was
indeed free and imposing. " Merck might have written
so," said I.
" No," said Goethe ; " he was not sufficiently noble
and positive. It is from Zelter. Pen and paper were
favourable to him in the case of this envelope ; so
152 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
that the writing perfectly expresses his great cha-
racter. I shall put the paper into my collection of
autographs."
Friday, April 3, 1829.
Dined with Coudray at Goethe's. Coudray gave an
account of a staircase in the grand-ducal palace at
Belvidere, which had been found inconvenient for many
years, — which the old mäster had always despaired of
improving, — and which had now been completely rec-
tified under the reign of the young prince.
Coudray also gave an account of the progress of
several highways, saying that the road over the moun-
tains had to be taken round a little, on account of a
rise of two feet to the rood (Ruthe), while in some
places there were eighteen inches to the rood.
I asked Coudray how many inches constituted the
proper standard for road-making in hilly districts.
u Ten inches to the rood," said he, u is a convenient
measure." " But," said I, " when we go from
Weimar along any road— -east, south, west, or north —
we find some places where the highway has a rise of
far more than ten inches to the rood." " Those are
short unimportant distances," replied Coudray ; u and
in road-making we often pass over such spots in the
vicinity of a place, that we may not deprive it of its
little income from relays." We laughed at this honest
fraud. u And in fact," continued Coudray, " it is a
mere trifle ; the carriages get easily over the ground,
and the passengers are for once and a way inured to a
little hardship. Besides, as the relays are usually put
on at inns, the drivers have an opportunity of taking
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I53
something to drink, and they would not thank any one
for spoiling their sport."
" I should like to know," said Goethe, " whether
in perfectly flat countries it would not be better to
interrupt the straight line of road, so as to allow it to
rise and foil a little. This would not prevent com-
fortable travelling; and there would be this advan-
tage, that the road would be always kept dry by the
draining."
" That might be done," replied Coudray, c< and
would probably be very useful."
Coudray then produced a paper,— the scheme of in-
structions for a young architect whom the Upper-
Building Board (Ober-Baubehörde) was about to send
to Paris to complete his education. He read the
instructions, of which Goethe approved. Goethe had
obtained the necessary assistance from the minister, we
were pleased at the success of the affair, and talked of
the precautionary measures to be adopted in order that
the money might be really of use to the young man,
and last him for a year. The intention was, on his
return, to place him as a teacher at the industrial
school which was to be established, by which means
the clever young man would at once have a suitable
sphere of action. All was well devised, and I gave
my silent good wishes.
Plans and studies for carpenters, drawn by Schindel,
were then produced and looked over. Coudray con-
sidered them of importance, and perfectly fitted for the
use of the industrial school.
There was then some talk about buildings, the
means of avoiding echo, and the great firmness of the
154 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
edifices belonging to the Jesuits. " At Messina,"
said Goethe, " all the buildings were thrown down by
an earthquake except the church and convent of the
Jesuits, which stood unharmed, as if they had been
built the day before. There was not a trace that the
earthquake had had the slightest effect upon them."
From the Jesuits and their wealth, conversation
turned upon the Catholics and Irish emancipation.
" Emancipation will, we see, be granted," said Cou-
dray, u but with so many clauses on the part of Parlia-
ment, that it cannot in any way be dangerous to
England."
u All preventive measures," said Goethe, u are
ineffectual with Catholics. The Papal see has interests
and means to carry them out quietly, of which we
never dream. If I were a member of Parliament, I
would not hinder emancipation ; but I would have it
recorded, that when the first distinguished Protestant
head fell by a Catholic vote, people might think of me."
Conversation then turned on the newest French
literature, and Goethe spoke again with admiration
of the lectures of MM. Cousin, Villemain, and
Guizot.
" Instead of the superficial lightness of Vol-
taire," said he, " they have an erudition, such as, in
earlier days, was unknown out of Germany. And
such intellect ! such searching and pressing out of the
subject ! superb ! It is as if they trod the wine-press.
All three are excellent, but I would give the preference
to Guizot ; he is my favourite."
Speaking on topics of universal history, Goethe
spoke thus on the subject of rulers :—
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. J55
cc
To be popular, a great ruler needs no other
means than his greatness. If he has striven and
succeeded in making his realm happy at home and
honoured abroad, it matters not whether he ride about
in a state coach, dressed in all his orders, or in a bear-
skin, with his cigar in his mouth, in a miserable drosky^
he is sure of love and esteem from his people.
" But if a prince lacks personal greatness, and does
not know how to conciliate his subjects by good deeds,
he must think of other means, and there is none better
and more effective than religion, and a sympathy with
the customs of his people. To appear at church every
Sunday ; to look down upon, and let himself be looked
at for an hour by the congregation, is the best means of
becoming popular which can be recommended to a
young sovereign, and one which, with all his greatness,
Napoleon himself did not disdain."
Conversation again turned upon the Catholics, and
it was remarked how great were the silent operation
and influence of the ecclesiastics. An anecdote was
related of a young writer of Henault, who had made
somewhat merry with the rosary in a periodical which
he edited. The paper was immediately bought up
through the influence of the priests over their several
congregations.
" An Italian translation of my c Weither,' " said
Goethe, " very soon appeared at Milan. Not a single
copy of it was to be seen a short time afterwards.
The bishop had caused the whole edition to be bought
up by the clergy in the various districts. I was not
vexed, but pleased with the shrewd gentlemen, who
saw, at once, that c Werther* was a bad book for the
I56 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
Catholics, and I could not do otherwise than commend
him for taking immediately the most effective measures
quietly to suppress it."
Sunday, April 5, 1829.
Goethe said he had driven out to Belvidere this
morning, to look at Coudray's new staircase in the
castle, which he found excellent. He also told me that
a great petrified log had been sent him, which he would
show me.
" Such petrified trunks," said he, " are found about
the fifty-first degree round about the earth, as far as
America, like a girdle. We must always go on wonder-
ing. We have no idea whatever of the early organiza-
tion of the earth, and I cannot blame Herr von Buch
for trying to indoctrinate mankind for the sake of spread-
ing his hypothesis. He knows nothing, but nobody
knows more; and, after all, it does not matter what
is taught, if it has only some show of reason."
Goethe told me that Zelter desired to be remem-
bered to me, at which I was greatly pleased. We
then talked of his "Travels in Italy;" and he told
me that in one of his letters from that country he
had found a song, which he would show me. He
asked me to hand him a packet of papers which lay
before me on the desk. I gave it him : it contained
his letters from Italy; he looked out the poem, and
read : —
" Cupido, loser, eigensinniger Knabe.**
" Cupid, thou wanton, thou self-wilTd boy," &c*
# The poem in its complete form will be found in the letters relating to
the " Second Stay at Rome ** (Zweyter Römischer Aufenthalt), under the
head of u January 1788.** — Trans.
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I57
I was highly pleased with this poem, which seemed
to me perfectly new,
u It cannot be strange to you," said Goethe, c< for
it is in ' Claudine von Villa Bella,' where it is sung by
Rugantino. I have, however, given it there in such a
fragmentary state, that one passes it over without
observing what it means. I think, however, it stands
well. It prettily expresses the situation', and is in the
anacreontic vein. This song, and others of the kind
from my operas, should properly be reprinted among
my < Poems/ that the composer may have them all
together." I thought this a good notion, and took it
as a hint for the future.
Goethe had read the poem very beautifully. I could
not get it out of my head, and it seemed to have made
a lasting impression upon him also. The last lines —
" So rude thy sport, I fear my poor little soul will
Haste away to escape thee, and flee her dwelling,"
he uttered from time to time, as if in a dream.
He then told me of a book about Napoleon, lately
published, which was written by one who had known
the hero in his youth, and contained the most remark-
able disclosures. " The book is very tame," said he,
" written without any enthusiasm ; but one sees what
a grand character there is in the truth when one ven-
tures to speak it."
Goethe also told me about a tragedy by a young poet.
" It is a pathological work," said he ; " a superfluity
of sap is bestowed on some parts which do not require
it, and drawn out of those which stand in need of it.
The subject was good, but the scenes which I ex-
I58 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
pected were not there ; while others, which I did not
expect, were elaborated with assiduity and love. This
is what I call pathological, or even * romantic/ if you
would rather speak after our new theory."
We remained together a little longer very cheer-
fully, and at last Goethe gave me some honey and
also some dates, which I took with me.
Monday, April 6, 1829.
Goethe gave me a letter from Egon Ebert, which I
read at dinner, and which highly pleased me. We
said a great deal in praise of Egon Ebert and Bohemia,
and also mentioned Professor Zauper with affection.
u Bohemia is a peculiar country," said Goethe. " I
have always liked to be there. In the culture of the
literati there is still something pure, which begins to
be rare in the north of Germany ; since here every
vagabond writes, with whom moral basis or higher
views are not to be thought of."
Goethe then spoke of Ebert's newest epic poem, of
the early female government in Bohemia, and of the
origin of the tradition of the Amazons. This brought
conversation to the epic of another poet, who had
taken great pains to get favourable notices of his work
in the public prints.
" Such notices," said Goethe, u have appeared in
various papers. But at last comes the ' Halle Literary
Gazette,' telling plainly what the poem is really worth,
and thus all the compliments of the other papers are
nullified. He who nowadays will not have the truth,
is discovered ; the time is past for deluding and mis-
leading the public."
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I59
" I wonder," said I, " that man can toil so for a
little fame, and even stoop to falsities."
" My good fellow," said Goethe, " a name is no
despicable matter. Napoleon, for the sake of a great
name, broke in pieces almost half a world."
A short pause arose, after which Goethe told me
more of the new book about Napoleon, adding —
" The power of truth is great. Every halo, every
illusion which journalists, historians, and poets have
conjured up about Napoleon, vanishes before the
terrible reality of this book ; but the hero becomes no
less than before ; on the contrary, he grows in stature
as he increases in truth."
" His personal influence," said I, " must have had
a peculiar magic, that men should so attach themselves
to him at once, adhere to him, and suffer themselves to
be wholly governed by him."
" Certainly ," said Goethe, " his personal influence
was immense. Yet the chief reason was, that men
under him were sure of attaining their object. On
this account they were drawn towards him, as they are
to every one who gives them a like certainty. Thus
actors attach themselves to a new manager, of whom
they think that he will assign them good parts. This
is an old story constantly repeated ; so is human nature
constituted. No man serves another disinterestedly,
but he does it willingly if he knows he can thus serve
himself. Napoleon knew men well j he knew how to
make proper use of their weaknesses."
The conversation turned upon Zelter.
" You know," said Goethe, " that Zelter received
the Prussian Order. But he had no coat of arms,
lÖO CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
while, from his large family, he might hope for a long
continuance of his name. A coat of arms was there-
fore necessary as an honourable basis, and I have taken
the fancy to make him one. I wrote to him, and he
was pleased, but insisted on having a horse. c Good,'
said I, ( a horse you shall have, but it shall be one
with wings.' But turn your head j a paper lies be-
hind you, upon which I have made the sketch with
pencil."
I took up the paper, and examined the drawing.
The arms looked very stately, and I could not but
praise the invention. In the lower field were the
battlements of a city wall, intimating that Zelter had
been, in early days, a skilful mason. A winged horse
rose from behind, indicating his genius and high aspira-
tions. Above the escutcheon was a lyre, over which
shone a star, as a symbol of the art by which our
excellent friend, under the influence and protection of
favouring stars, had won his fame. Beneath was
annexed the Order which his king, in recognition of
his great merits, had bestowed upon him.
" I have had it engraved by Facius," said Goethe,
" and you shall see an impression. Is it not pleasant
for one friend to make a coat of arms for another,
and thus, as it were, bestow nobility upon him ? "
We sat a while longer at table, taking some glasses
of old Rhenish wine, with some good biscuits. Goethe
hummed to himself unintelligibly. The poem of
yesterday came into my head again. I recited the
lines, —
" My goods and chattels hast thou knock'd about sadly;
I seek, and only seem to wander in blindness."
J
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. l6l
cc
I cannot get that poem out of my head," said I.
" It is quite unique, and most admirably expresses the
disorder which love occasions in our life."
" It brings a gloomy condition before our eyes,"
said Goethe.
" On me," said I, " it makes the impression of a
Dutch picture."
u There is something in it of the c Good man and
good wife,' " said Goethe.
" You have just anticipated me," said I ; c< for
I have been forced to keep on thinking of that
Scottish subject, and Ostade's picture was before my
eyes."
" Yet, strange to say," observed Goethe, cc neither
of these two poems could be painted ; they convey
the impression of a picture — they produce a similar
mood ; but, once painted, they would be nothing."
" It is," said I, " a fine instance of poetry verging
as nearly on painting as possible, without going out
of its own sphere. Such poems are my favourites, as
they inspire both contemplation and feeling. But I
hardly understand how you could obtain the feeling of
such a situation ; the poem is as if from another time
and another world."
" I shall not write such another," said Goethe ; cc and
know not how it came to me, as is often the case."
" One peculiarity of this poem," said I, " is, that
it has upon me the effect of rhyme, and yet it is not in
rhyme. How is this ? "
" That is the result of the rhythm," he replied.
" The lines begin with a short syllable, and then
proceed in trochees till the dactyle near the close >
vol. 11. m
1 62 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1829.
which has a peculiar effect, and gives a sad, bewail-
ing character to the poem."
He took a pencil, and divided the line, —
" Von I meinem | breitön | Läggr | bin fch vgr | trieben.'*
We then talked of rhythm in general, and came to
the conclusion that no certain rules can be laid down
for such matters.
" The measure," said Goethe, " flows, as it were,
unconsciously from the mood of the poet. If he
thought about it while writing the poem he would go
mad, and produce nothing of value."
I was waiting for the impression of the seal. Goethe
began to speak of Guizot.
" I am going on with his lectures, which continue
to be excellent. Those of the present year go about as
far as the eighth century. I know no historian more
profound or more penetrating. Things of which no
one thinks have the greatest significance in his eyes, as
sources of important events. For instance, what in-
fluence certain religious opinions have had upon his-
tory; how the doctrine of original sin, grace, and
good works, has given this or that form to certain
epochs, is shown and deduced with the utmost clear-
ness. Then the enduring life of Roman law, which,
like a diving duck, hides itself from time to time,
but is never quite lost, always coming up again alive,
is well set forth ; on which occasion full acknowledg-
ment is given to our excellent Savigny.
" When Guizot speaks of the influence which other
nations exercised on the Gauls in former times, I was
particularly struck with what he says of the Germans.
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 163
" c The Germans/ says he, c brought us the idea of
personal freedom, which was possessed by that nation
more than any other.'
" Is not that good ? Is he not perfectly right ? and
does not this idea work upon us even to the present
day ? The Reformation is as much attributable to this
source, as the Burschen conspiracy on the Wartburg —
wise as well as foolish enterprises. Even the motley
character of our literature ; the thirst of our poets
for originality — the belief of each one that he must
strike out a new path; the separation and isolation
among our learned men, each one standing by himself,
and working from a point of his own,— all comes from
this source.
" The French and English, on the other hand, keep
for more together, and guide themselves one by another.
They harmonize in dress and manners. They fear to
differ from one another, lest they should be remarkable,
or even ridiculous. But with the Germans each one
goes his own way, and strives to satisfy himself; he
does not ask about others, for, as Guizot rightly
observes, he has within him the idea of personal free-
dom, from which, as I have said, comes much that is
excellent, but also much absurdity."
Tuesday, April 7, 1829.
As I entered, I found Hofrath Meyer, who had
been ill of late, sitting with Goethe at table, and was
rejoiced to see him so much better. They spoke of
things relating to art, — of Peel, who has given four
thousand pounds for a Claude Lorraine, and has thus
found especial favour in the eyes of Meyer.
M 2
1 64 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1829*
The newspapers were brought in, and we looked
over them while waiting for the soup. The emanci-
pation of the Irish was now discussed as the order of
the day.
" It is instructive," said Goethe, " to see how things
come to light on this occasion, of which no one ever
thought, and which would never have been spoken of
but for the present crisis. We cannot, however, get
a clear notion of the state of Ireland ; the subject is
too intricate. But this we can see, that she suffers
from evils which will not be removed by any means,
and therefore, of course, not by emancipation. If it
has hitherto been unfortunate for Ireland to endure
her evils alone, it is now unfortunate that England is
also drawn into them. Then, no confidence can be
put in the Catholics. We see with what difficulty the
two million of Protestants in Ireland have kept their
ground hitherto against the preponderating five million
of Catholics ; and how, for instance, the poor Protestant
farmers have been oppressed, tricked, and tormented,
when among Catholic neighbours. The Catholics do
not agree among themselves, but they always unite
against a Protestant. They are like a pack of hounds,
who bite one another, but, when a stag comes in view,
they all unite immediately to run it down."
From Ireland conversation turned to the affairs of
Turkey. Surprise was expressed that the Russians,
with their preponderating power, did not effect more
in the late campaign.
" The fact of the matter is this," said Goethe, u the
means were inadequate, and therefore overgreat requi-
sitions were made upon individuals ; this produced
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 165
great personal deeds and sacrifices, without advancing
the cause on the whole."
" It may be," said Meyer, <c a bad locality* We
see, in the earliest times, that, at this very spot, if an
enemy attempted to penetrate anywhere from the
Danube to the northern mountains, he always en-
countered the most obstinate resistance, and almost
invariably failed. If the Russians could only keep the
sea-side open, to furnish themselves with stores in
that way ! "
" That is yet to be hoped," said Goethe ; u I am
now reading Napoleon's campaign in Egypt, — namely,
what is related by the hero's every-day companion,
Bourrienne, which destroys the romantic cast of many
scenes, and displays facts in their naked sublime truth.
It is evident that he undertook this expedition merely
to fill up an epoch when he could do nothing in
France to make himself ruler. He was at first unde-
cided what to do ; he visited all the French harbours
on the Atlantic coast, to inspect the fleets, and see
whether an expedition against England were practicable
or not. He found it was not, and then decided on
going to Egypt."
" It raises my admiration," said I, " that Napoleon,
at that early age, could play with the great affairs of
the world as easily and securely as if many years*
practice and experience had gone before."
" That, my dear friend," said Goethe, u is an inborn
quality with great talents. Napoleon managed the
world as Hummel his piano ; both achievements appear
wonderful, we do not understand one more than the
other, yet .so it is, and the whole is done before our eyes*
l66 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1829.
Napoleon was in this especially great — that he was at
all hours the same. Before a battle, during a battle,
after a victory, after a defeat, he stood always firm, was
always clear and decided as to what he should do. He
was always in his element, and equal to each situation
and each moment, just as it is all alike to Hummel
whether he plays an adagio or an allegro^ bass or treble.
This facility we find everywhere where there is real
talent, in the arts of peace as well as in war; at the
harpsichord as behind the cannon.
" We see, by this book," continued Goethe, " how
many fables have been invented about the Egyptian
campaign. Much, indeed, is corroborated, but much is
.not, and most that has been said is contradicted. That
he had eight hundred Turkish prisoners shot is true >
but the act appears as the mature determination of a
long council of war, on the conviction, after a consi-
deration of all the circumstances, that there were no
means of saving them. That he descended into the
Pyramids is a fable. He stood at his ease on the out-
side, and let others tell him what they had seen below.
In the same way, the tradition that he wore the Eastern
dress is inaccurate. He put it on once at home, and
appeared in it among his followers, to see how it be-
came him. But the turban does not suit such long
heads, and he never put on the dress again.
" He really visited those sick of the plague, and,
indeed, in order to prove that the man who could van-
quish fear could vanquish the plague also. And he was
right ! I can instance a fact from my own life, when
I was inevitably exposed to infection from a putrid
fever, and warded off the disease merely by force of
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 167
will. It is incredible what power the moral will ha9
in such cases. It penetrates, as it were, the body, and
puts it into a state of activity which repels all hurtful
influences. Fear, on the other hand, is a state of indo-
lent weakness and susceptibility, which makes it easy
for every foe to take possession of us. This Napoleon
knew well, and he felt that he risked nothing in giving
his army an imposing example.
" But," continued he, gaily, " pay your respects.
What book do you think Napoleon carried in his field
library ?— my < Weither ! * "
" We may see by his levee at Erfurt," said I, " that
he had studied it well."
" He had studied it as a criminal judge does his
documents," said Goethe, c< and in this spirit talked
with me about it. In Bourrienne's work there is a
list of the books which Napoleon took to Egypt,
among which is * Werther.' But what is worth
noticing in this list, is the manner in which the books
are classed under different rubrics. Under the head
Politique ^ for instance, we find the Old Testament,
the New Testament, the Koran ; by which we see
from what point of view Napoleon regarded religious
matters."
He told us many other interesting matters from the
book. Among others, the incident was mentioned
how Napoleon with his army went through part of
the dry bed in the narrow part of the Red Sea, at the
time of ebb 5 but was overtaken by the flood, and the
last men waded up to their arms in water, so that the
exploit nearly ended in Pharaoh's style. This led
Goethe to say much that was new on the rise of the
l68 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
flood. He compared it with that of the clouds, which
do not come from a great distance, but arise at once in
various parts, and pass along symmetrically every-
where.
Wednesday, April 8, 1829.
Goethe was already at table when I entered ; he
received me with a very cheerful air.
" From whence, think you," said he, a have I
received a letter ? — From Rome. But from whom ?
— From the King of Bavaria."
" I sympathize in the pleasure you feel," said I.
" And is it not odd ? Not an hour since, and during
my walk, I had occupied myself with thinking about
the King of Bavaria ; and now I receive this pleasant
intelligence."
u We have often internal intimations of that sort,"
said Goethe. " There is the letter ; take it, sit down
by me, and read it."
I took the letter, Goethe took the newspaper, and so
I read undisturbed the royal words. The letter was
dated Rome, 26th March 1829, and was written in a
very legible and dignified hand. The King told Goethe
that he had bought an estate in Rome, the Villa di
Malta, with the adjacent gardens in the neighbourhood
of the Villa Ludovisi, at the north-west end of the city.
It stands upon a hill, so that he can see over all Rome,
and has towards the north-east a full view of St.
Peter's.
u It is a prospect," he writes, a which one would
travel a long way to enjoy, and which I have at my
command every hour, from the windows of my own
house."
»
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE» 1 6^
He goes on congratulating himself at being so
pleasantly settled at Rome. " I had not seen Rome
for twelve years," he writes, " and longed for it as
one longs for a mistress ; I shall return with my feel-
ings tranquillized, as one comes to a beloved female
friend." He then speaks of the sublime edifices and
works of art with the enthusiasm of a connoisseur,
whose heart is set on the really beautiful and its
advancement, and who is keenly sensitive to any de-
parture from good taste. The letter altogether was
conceived and expressed in a beautiful and thoroughly
humane feeling, such as one does not expect from
persons of such high rank. I expressed my delight to
Goethe.
a There you see a monarch," said he, " who, while
he has his royal majesty, preserves the innate beauty
of his nature as a man. This is a rare phenomenon,
and therefore the more delightful."
I looked again at the letter, and found in it some
more excellent passages. " Here in Rome," writes
the King, iC I refresh myself from the cares of a
throne; Art and Nature are my daily enjoyments —
artists my table companions." He also writes how he
passed the house where Goethe resided, and how he
thought of him at the time. Some passages are cited
from the " Roman Elegies," * from which it may be
seen that the King keeps them fresh in his memory,
and likes to read them at Rome, from time to time,
on the very spot where they were produced.
" Yes," said Goethe, " he is particularly fond of
those elegies« He has teazed me a great deal to tell
* 1. e, Goethe's.— Trans.
J 70 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
him how far they are matter of feet ; the effect of the
poems being so pleasant, that it seems as if there must
have been something in the reality. People seldom
reflect that a poet can generally make something good
out of small occasions.
" I wish," continued Goethe, " that I had the
Ring's poems by me, that I might allude to them in
my answer. I should think they were good, to judge
from the little I have read. In form and treatment he
has much of Schiller, and, if he has put the substance
of a lofty soul into so fine a vase, we have a right to
expect much excellence. I am glad that the King is
so pleasantly settled at Rome. I know the villa — the
situation is beautiful, and all the German artists reside
in the vicinity."
The servant changed the plates, and Goethe bade
him spread out the large engraving of Rome on the
floor of the " covered chamber." " I will show vou on
what a beautiful spot the King has settled, that you
may have a right notion of the locality." I felt much
obliged to Goethe.
" Yesterday evening," said I, " I read c Claudine
von Villa Bella,' and was much delighted with it.
The foundation is so well laid, and it is carried out
with so much joyous audacity, that I feel the strongest
desire to see it on the stage."
" If it is well played," said Goethe, " the effect is
not bad."
u I have already cast the piece in my mind," said I,
" and distributed the parts. Herr Genast must be
Rugantino ; he seems actually made for the part. Herr
Franke must be Don Pedro, for he is similarly shaped,
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I7I
and it is good for two brothers to be somewhat alike.
Herr La Roche should be Basco, who, with his excel«
lent art and making-up, would give the part the wild
aspect it requires."
" Madame Eberwein," continued Goethe, " would
make a very good Lucinde, and Mademoiselle Schmidt
would be Claudine."
" For Alonzo," said I, c< we ought to have a stately
figure —rather a good actor than a singer, and I think
Herr Oels or Herr Graff would be well placed. But
by whom is the opera composed, and what is the music
like?"
u By Reichardt, and it is excellent," answered
Goethe ; u only, the instrumentation is a little too
weak, owing to the taste of the time. Something
should now be done in this respect, so as to make the
instrumentation a little stronger and fuller. With our
song, c Cupido loser^ eigensinniger Knabe J the com-
poser has been particularly happy."
" It is a peculiarity of this song," said I, w that it
puts me in a pleasant dreamy mood whenever it is
recited."
<c From such a mood it proceeded," said Goethe,
u and therefore this effect is the right one."
We had finished eating. Frederick came in and told
us that he had laid out the engraving of Rome in the
" covered chamber." We went in to look at it. The
picture of the great metropolis of the world lay be-
fore us. Goethe soon found the Villa Ludovisi, and
near it the King's new purchase — the Villa di Malta.
" See," said he, " what a superb situation ! The
whole city is spread out before you, and the hill is so
1J2 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
high, that you can see quite over the buildings towards
south and east. I have been in this villa, and have
often enjoyed the view from the windows. Here,
where the city extends out in a point towards the
north-east beyond the Tiber, lies St. Peter's ; and here,
hard by, is the Vatican* The King, you see, has
from the windows of his villa a full view of these
buildings across the river. The long road here, from
the north into the city, comes from Germany ; that is
the Porta del Popolo. I lived in one of these first
streets near the gate, in a corner house. They. show
another in Rome as the place where I lived ; but it is
not the right one. No matter; such things are, at
bottom, quite indifferent, and we must let tradition take
its course."
We returned into the dining-room.
" The Chancellor," said I, " would be pleased with
that letter from the King."
" He shall see it," said Goethe.
" When I read in the Paris newspaper," continued
Goethe, " the speeches and debates of the Chambers,
I cannot help thinking of the Chancellor, and how
truly he would be in his element there. For such a
place it is not enough to have talent, but an impulse to
Speak, and a delight in it ; both of which are united in
our Chancellor. Napoleon, too, had this impulse to
speak ; and when he could not he was forced to write
or dictate. We find with Blucher, too, that he liked
to speak, and spoke well and with emphasis ; he had
cultivated this talent at the lodge. Our Grand Duke,
too, liked to speak, though he was by nature laconic ;
and when he could not speak, he wrote. He has
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 173
prepared many laws, many treaties, for the most part
well j only princes have not time or quiet to obtain the
necessary knowledge of details. Even in his last days
he made an order about paying for the restoration of
pictures. This was a happy instance, for, quite like a
prince, he had made a mathematical calculation for
paying the expenses of restoration by measure : if the
restored picture holds twelve square feet, pay twelve
dollars; if four feet, four dollars. This was like a
prince, but not like an artist ; for a twelve-foot picture
may be in such a state that it can be cleaned without
much trouble in a day, while a four-foot picture may
be in such a condition that the industry and toil of a
whole week will scarcely suffice to restore it. But
princes, like good military men, are fond of mathe-
matical arrangements, and go to work on the grand
scale, according to measure."
I was pleased with this anecdote. We then said a
great deal about Art, and kindred subjects.
" I possess drawings," said Goethe, " after pictures
by Raffaelle and Domenichino, upon which Meyer
made a remarkable observation, which I will communi-
cate : —
" c The drawings,' said Meyer, c somewhat evince
a want of practice ; but it is evident that whoever
made them had a delicate and just feeling for the pic-
tures which were before him, and this has passed into
the drawing, so as to bring the originals faithfully
before the mind. If an artist of our day copied those
pictures, he would draw everything far better, and per-
haps more correctly ; but I can venture to say, that he
would want this true feeling for the original, and that,
174 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
therefore, his superior drawing would be far from
giving us so pure and perfect a notion of Raffaelle or
Domenichino.*
" Is not that good ?" said Goethe. " And the same
may be said of translations. Voss, for instance, has
certainly made an excellent translation from Homer ;
yet, I am inclined to think, a person might have had
and conveyed a more naive and faithful representation
of the original, without being, on the whole, so masterly
a translator as Voss."
I found this all very just, and perfectly agreed with
it. As the weather was fine, and the sun was already
high, we went a little way down the garden, where
Goethe had some trees tied up, which hung too low
upon the path.
The yellow crocuses were in full vigour. We
looked upon the flowers and then upon the path, where
we had perfectly violet images. " You were lately of
opinion," said Goethe, " that green and red mutually
called forth each other better than yellow and blue,
inasmuch as the former colours stood at a higher
degree, and were therefore more perfect, fuller,* and
more effective than the latter. I cannot admit this.
Every colour, as soon as it is decidedly exhibited to
the eye, acts with equal force for the production of the
c demanded colour.* The only point is, that our eye
should be in the right mood, that the sunlight should
offer no impediment by overbrightness, and that the
ground should not be unfavourable to the reception of
the c demanded ' image. Generally, we must take care
not to make too subtle distinctions and definitions with
* Literally « satiated " (gesättigt).— tram.
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 17$
respect to colours, as we are too easily exposed to
the danger of being led from the essential into the
non-essential, from the true into the false, and from
the simple into the intricate."
I noted down this as a good doctrine for my studies.
In the mean while, the time for the theatre had arrived,
and I prepared to set out. " Mind," said Goethe,
laughing, as he took leave of me, " that you are able to
get over the horrors of * Thirty Years of a Gamester's
Life* this evening.'*
Friday, April 10, 1829.
" While we are waiting for our soup, I will provide
you with refreshment for your eyes."
With these friendly words, Goethe placed before
me a volume, containing landscapes of Claude Lor-
raine.
These were the first productions of this great master
which I had seen. The impression they made upon
me was extraordinary ; and my surprise and rapture
rose with every leaf I turned over.
The power of the shadowy masses on either side,
the splendid sunlight from the background, and its
reflection in the water, producing a clear and decisive
impression, struck me as the always-recurring maxim
upon art of the great master. I was also delighted to
find each picture quite a little world by itself, in which
there was nothing that was not in conformity with,
and did not advance, the ruling thought. Whether it
was a seaport with vessels at anchor, active fishermen
and magnificent buildings on the water's edge, or a
lonely barren hill-country, with its grazing goats, little
brook and bridge, a few low bushes, and a shady tree,
I76 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1829.
under which a reposing shepherd was piping, or a
marshy spot, with standing pools, which in the power-
ful summer-heat gives a pleasant impression of cool-
ness, there was always complete unity in the picture;
nowhere a trace of anything foreign that did not belong
to its element.
" Here you see, for once, a complete man," said
Goethe, " who thought and felt beautifully, and in
whose mind lay a world, such as you will not easily
find out of doors. The pictures have the highest
truth, but no trace of actuality. Claude Lorraine
knew the real world by heart, down to the minutest
details, and used it only as a means to express the
world of his beautiful soul. That is the true ideality
which can so use real means that the truth evolved
produces an illusion as if it were an actuality."
" This, I think, is good doctrine," said I, " and
would apply as well to poetry as to the plastic arts."
" Even so," replied Goethe. u Meanwhile, you had
better defer the further enjoyment of the admirable
Claude till after dinner ; for the pictures are too good
to look at many of them at once."
" That is my feeling," said I, " for a certain fear
comes over me when I am about to turn to the fol-
lowing leaf. It is a fear of a peculiar kind which is
inspired by these beauties, and we have a similar feeling
with an excellent book, when a crowd of excellent
passages compel us to stop, and we loiter a little as we
proceed."
" I have answered the King of Bavaria," said
Goethe, after a pause, cc and you shall read my
letter."
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 1 77
"That will be very instructive for me," said I,
" and will afford me much pleasure."
"In the mean while," said Goethe, " there is in
the * Allgemeine Zeitung ' a poem to the King, which
the Chancellor read to me yesterday, and which you
must see likewise.'*
Goethe gave me the paper, and I read the poem to
myself.
" Now, what do you say to it ?" said Goethe.
" They are," I replied, " the feelings of a dilettante
who has more good-will than talent, and to whom the
high state of literature presents language ready made,
which sings and rhymes for him, while he imagines
that he himself is speaking."
" You are perfectly right," said he ; "I also think
the poem a very weak production. It bears no trace
of external observation ; it is wholly mental, and that
not in the right way."
"To write a poem well," said I, " requires great
knowledge of the subject ; and he who has not, like
Claude Lorraine, a whole world at command, will
seldom produce anything good, with the best ideal
tendencies."
" And then," said Goethe, " only an innate talent
knows what is really to be done, while others, more or
less, go on blundering."
" The aesthetic teachers," said I, " are a proof of
this ; for scarcely one of them knows what properly
should be taught, and hence they complete the per-
plexity of young poets. Instead of treating of the
Real, they treat of the Ideal ; and instead of helping
the young poet to what he has not, they confuse him
VOL. II. N
I78 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
about what he has. He who, for instance, has by
nature wit and humour, will use these powers to the
best advantage, if scarcely conscious that he is en-
dowed with them ; but he who allows himself to be
influenced by the much-lauded treatises upon these
high qualities, will be disturbed in the innocent use of
his powers, consciousness will paralyze these powers,
and instead of the aid he desires, he will find himself
incalculably impeded."
" You are quite right," he replied, u and a great
deal might be said on that chapter."
. " I have," he continued, " been reading the new
epic by Egon Ebert ; and you must read it too, that
we may help him out a little. He is really a superior
talent, but this new poem lacks the proper poetical
foundation — the foundation of reality. The external
landscapes, sunset, and sunrise, — passages where the ex-
ternal world was his own, — could not be better done.
But the rest, which lies in ages gone by, and belongs
to tradition, is not painted with its proper truth, and
lacks the right kernel. The Amazons, with their life
and actions, are described in that general way which
young people esteem poetic and romantic, and which
usually passes for such in the aesthetic world."
" This is a fault," said I, " which pervades the
whole of our present literature. Special truth is
avoided, for fear it should not be poetical, and thus we
fell into commonplaces."
" Egon Ebert," said Goethe, " should have adhered
to the chronicles ; he would then have made some-
thing of his poem. When I remember how Schiller
studied tradition, what trouble he , gave himself about
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 179
Switzerland when he wrote his 4 Tell/ and how
Shakspeare used the chronicles, and took into his plays
whole passages word for word, I am inclined to pre-
scribe the same course to a young poet of the present
day. I have, in my 4 Clavigo,* made use of whole
passages from the ' Memoirs' of Beaumarchais."
" But they are so worked up," said I, " that the
fact is not observed, and the passages do not stand out
like an indigested mass."
" If it is so," said Goethe, " that is as it should be.
Beaumarchais was a mad fellow, and you must read his
i Memoirs.' Lawsuits were his element, in which
alone he felt truly at home. There are still in exis-
tence speeches from one of his lawsuits, which may be
ranked among the most remarkable, the most full of
talent, and the boldest which have ever been known of
their kind. However, Beaumarchais lost this same
famous lawsuit. As he was going down the stairs from
the court, he met the Chancellor coming up. Beaumar-
chais ought to have given place, but he would not, and
insisted that each should take half the stair. The Chan-
cellor, insulted in his dignity, commanded his people
to push Beaumarchais aside, which they did. Beau-
marchais immediately returned into court, and began
an action against the Chancellor, which he gained."
I was pleased with this anecdote, and we continued
talking over various things.
a I have now taken up * My Second Residence in
Rome* once more," said Goethe, u that I may finally
get rid of it, and turn my attention to something else.
You know that my published Italian journey was
entirely compiled from letters. But the letters which
N 2
l8o CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
I wrote during my second visit to Rome, are not of
such a kind that I can make an advantageous use of
them ; they contain too many references to home and
my connections in Weimar, and show too little of my
Italian life. Yet there are many utterances which
express my inward life at the same time. Now, I think
of extracting these passages, and inserting them in my
narrative, to which they will give tone and harmony."
I found this plan perfectly judicious, and confirmed
Goethe in his intentions.
" It has at all times been said and repeated, that
man should strive to know himself. This is a singular
requisition, with which no one complies, or indeed
ever will comply. Man is by all his senses and efforts
directed to externals — to the world around him, and he
has to know this so far, and to make it so far service-
able, as he requires for his own ends. It is only when
he feels joy or sorrow that he knows anything about
himself, and only by joy or sorrow is he instructed
what to seek and what to shun. Altogether, man is a
darkened being ; he knows not whence he comes, nor
whither he goes ; he knows little of the world, and
least of himself. I know not myself, and God forbid
I should ! But what I wished to say is this, that in
my fortieth year, while living in Italy, I became wise
enough to know thus much of myself — that I had no
talent for plastic art, and that this tendency of mine
was a false one. If I drew anything, I had not a
sufficient inclination for the corporeal, I felt a certain
fear lest objects should press too much upon me, and
the weak and moderate was more to my taste. If I
drew a landscape, and got through the back and middle
1829O CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. l8l
ground, I never dared to give force enough to the fore»
ground, so that my pictures never produced the proper
effect. Then I made no progress except by practice,
and was always obliged to begin again, if I left off for
a while. Yet I was not absolutely destitute of talent,
especially for landscape, and Hackert often said, — ( If
you will stay with me eighteen months, you will pro»
duce something which will give pleasure to yourself
and others/ "
I listened with great interest.
" But how," said I, " can one be sure that one
possesses a real talent for plastic art ?"
" Real talent," said Goethe, " has an innate sense
for form, relations, and colour, so as soon to manage
all that well with but little guidance. Especially,
it has a sense for the corporeal, and an inclination
to make it palpable by judicious distribution of light.
Even in the intervals of practice, it progresses and
grows inwardly. Such a talent is not hard to recog-
nise, but is best recognised by a master."
c< I visited the palace this morning," continued he,
in a lively tone. " The apartments of the Grand
Duchess show great taste ; and Coudray has, With
his Italians, given another proof of his talent. The
painters were still busy with the walls; they were
Milanese. I spoke Italian with them, and found that
I had not lost the power. The language brings back,
as it were, the atmosphere of the country. They told
me that they had last painted the chateau of the King
of Würtemberg, and that they had then been sum-
moned to Gotha, where, however, they could not come
to any agreement* They had been heard of in Weimar
l82 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
at the same time, and had come here to decorate the
apartments of the Grand Duchess. I listened, and
was pleased to speak Italian once more, for the lan-
guage brings with it, as it were, the atmosphere of the
country. These worthy people have been absent from
Italy three years, but, as they tell me, they intend to
go straight home from hence, when they have finished
painting a scene for our theatre by order of Herr von
Spiegel. This, probably, you will deem a piece of good
news. They are very clever fellows. One is pupil
of the best scene-painter in Milan ; and you may there-
fore expect a good scene."
After Frederick had cleared the table, Goethe had a
small plan of Rome laid before him.
c< Rome," said he, u would not do for the permanent
abode of people like us. He who would settle there
must marry and turn Catholic, else would he lead an
insupportable existence. Hackert is not a little proud
of having lived there so long a Protestant."
Goethe then showed me, on the plan, the most
remarkable squares and buildings. " This," said he,
" is the Farnese garden."
w Was it not here," said I, <c that you wrote the
witch-scene, in i Faust?'"
" No," he replied, " in the Borghese garden."
I now refreshed myself with more landscapes by
Claude, and we said a great deal about this excellent
master.
u Could not now a young artist," said I, <c model
himself upon him ? "
w He who had a similar mind," answered Goethe,
<c would certainly develop great excellence by forming
1829*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 183
himself on Claude Lorraine. But he whose soul
nature had not endowed with similar gifts, would at
most only borrow single peculiarities from this master,
and use them as mere phrases."
Saturday, April 11, 1829.
I found the table laid out to-day in the long hall for
several persons. Goethe and Frau von Goethe received
me very kindly. The guests gradually arrived, viz.j
Madame Schopenhauer j young Count Reinhard, of the
French embassy ; his brother-in-law, Herr von D
who was on his way to enter into the Russian service
against the Turks ; Fräulein Ulrica ; and, lastly,
Hofrath Vogel.
Goethe was in an especially cheerful mood, and
entertained the company before dinner with some good
Frankfort jokes, especially relating to Rothschild and
Bethmann, showing how one had spoiled the specula-
tions of the other.
Count Reinhard went to Court ; the rest of us sat
down to dinner. Conversation became very animated.
They talked about travelling and the bathing-places;
and Madame Schopenhauer especially interested us
about the arrangement of her estate on the Rhine, near
the Island Nonnenwerth.
- At dessert, Count Reinhard reappeared, and was
praised for the activity with which, during his short
absence, he had not only dined at Court, but had changed
his dress twice. He brought the intelligence that the
new Pope — a Castiglioni — was elected, and Goethe gave
the company an account of the traditional ceremonies
observed at the election.
Count Reinhard, who had passed the winter at Paris*
184 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE» [1829.
was able to give us a great deal of desirable information
about celebrated statesmen, literati, and poets. We
talked about Chateaubriand, Guizot, Salvandy, Beran**
ger, Merimee, and others*
After dinner, when all except myself had departed,
Goethe took me into his work-room, and showed me
two very interesting papers, with which I was highly
pleased. These were two letters written in his youth,
one in 1770, from Strasburg, to his friend Dr. Horn,
at Frankfort; one in July, the other in December.
In both spoke a young man who had a presentiment of
great things which lay before him to do. In the last,
traces of " Werther " were already visible ; the Sesen-
heim connection had been formed, and the happy
youth seemed rocked in an extasy of the sweetest feel«
ings, and to be lavishing away his days as if half in a
dream. The handwriting of the letters was calm,
clear, and elegant ; it had already assumed the charac-
ter it always afterwards preserved. I could not for-
bear reading again and again these charming letters,
and left Goethe full of the happiest and most grateful
feelings.
Sunday, April 12, 1829.
Goethe read me his answer to the King of Bavaria«
He had represented himself as one who actually ascends
the steps of the villa, and expresses his feelings by word
of mouth in the King's immediate presence.
" It must be difficult," said I, " to preserve exactly
the proper tone and manner for such cases."
c < No one," said Goethe, u who, during his whole
life, has had to do with persons of high rank as I have,
will find it difficult. The only point is not to be per-
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 185
fectly natural, but always to keep within the line of a
certain conventional propriety. "
Goethe then spoke of the compilation of his
" Second Residence at Rome," which now occupied
him.
" From the letters,* said he, " which I wrote at
that period, I plainly see that we have certain advan-
tages and disadvantages at every time of life, as com-
pared with earlier or later periods. Thus, in my
fortieth year, I was as clear and decided on some sub-
jects as at present, and in many respects superior to
my present self; yet now, in my eightieth, I possess
advantages which I should not like to exchange for
those."
" While you made that remark,** said I, " the
metamorphosis of plants came before my eyes, and
I can well understand that one would not return from
the period of the flower to that of the green leaf, and
from that of the fruit or seed to the flower-state."
" The simile," said Goethe, " expresses my mean-
ing perfectly."
" Only imagine a perfectly indented leaf," he con-
tinued, laughing ; u do you think that it would go back
from its state of free development to the dull con-
finement of the cotyledon? And, indeed, it is an
interesting fact that we have a plant which may serve
as a symbol of the most advanced age, since, having
passed the period of flower and fruit, it still thrives
cheerfully without further foundation,"
" It is bad, however, that we are so hindered in
life by false tendencies, and never know them to be
false until we are already freed from them."
l86 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
<c But how," said I, " shall we know that a tendency
is false?"
" A false tendency," replied Goethe, c< is not pro-
ductive ; or if it is, what it produces is of no worth. It
is not so difficult to perceive this in others ; but with
respect to oneself the case is different, and great free-
dom of mind is required. And even knowledge of
the truth is not always of use ; we delay, doubt,
cannot resolve — just as one finds it difficult to leave
a beloved girl of whose infidelity one has long had
repeated proofs. This I say, because I remember how
many years were required before I could find out that
my tendency to plastic art was a false one, and how
many more, after I was sure of this fact, to separate
myself entirely from it."
" But," said I, " that tendency has been of such
advantage to you, one can hardly call it false." »
u I gained insight by it," said Goethe, u and there-
fore I can make myself easy about it. That is the
advantage we draw from every false tendency. He
who with inadequate talent devotes himself to music,
will never, indeed, become a master, but may learn to
know and to value a masterly production. With all
my toil, I have not become an artist ; but, as I tried
every department of art, I have learned to take
cognizance of each stroke, and to distinguish merits
from defects. This is no small gain ; and, indeed, false
tendencies are rarely without gain. Thus the Crusades,
for the liberation of the holy sepulchre, manifestly
represented a false tendency ; but they did this good,
they weakened the Turks, and prevented them from
becoming masters of Europe."
1829-] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 187
We talked on various subjects, and Goethe then
spoke to me of a book on Peter the Great, by Segur,
which had interested him, and given him much
light.
<c The situation of Petersburg," said he, <c is quite
unpardonable, especially when we reflect that the
ground rises in the neighbourhood, and that the Em-
peror could have had a city quite free from all this
trouble arising from overflow of the stream, if he had
but gone a little higher up, and had only had the haven
in this low place. An old shipmaster represented this to
him, and prophesied that the people would be drowned
every seventy years. There stood also an old treej
with various marks from times when the waters had
risen to a great height. But all this was in vain ; the
Emperor stood to his whim, and had the tree cut downj
that it might not bear witness against him.
" You will confess that such conduct is very strange
in so great a man. Do you know how I explain it ?—
Man cannot cast aside his youthful impressions ; and
this principle goes so far, that even defects to which he
is accustomed in his early years, and in the midst of
which he has passed his happiest time, remain after-
wards so dear to him that he is dazzled by them, and
cannot perceive any fault. Thus would Peter the
Great repeat Amsterdam, so dear to his youth, in a
metropolis at the mouth of the Neva ; as the Dutch'
are always tempted to build new Amsterdams over and
over again in their new possessions."
Monday, April 13, 1829.
To-day, after Goethe had said many good things to
1 88 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
me at dinner, I again refreshed myself at dessert with
some of Claude's landscapes.
"The collection," said Goethe, "bears the title
Liber Veritatis ; it might as well be styled Liber
Natuta et Artisy—fox here we find nature and art in
the highest state and fairest union."
I asked Goethe about the origin of Claude Lorraine,
and in what school he had formed himself.
u His immediate master," said Goethe, <c was An-
tonio Tasso, but Tasso was a pupil of Paul Brill, so
that the school and maxims of the latter formed the real
foundation of Claude, and came to their full blossom
in him * for what appeared too earnest and severe in
those masters, is; in Claude Lorraine, developed to the
most charming grace and loveliest freedom. There
was no going beyond him.
" However, it is difficult to say from whom so
great a talent, living in so remarkable a time and
situation, actually did learn* He looked about, and
appropriated to himself everything which could afford
nourishment to his designs. No doubt Claude Lor-
raine was as much indebted to the Caracci school as to
his immediate and nominal masters*
" Thus, it is usual to say Giulio Romano was a pupil
of Raffaelle $ but we might, with as much propriety,
say he was the pupil of his age« Only Guido Reni
had a pupil, who received so entirely into himself the
spirit, soul, and art of his master, that he almost was,
and did almost exactly, the same as her This was a
peculiar case, which has scarcely been repeated.
"The Caracci school, on the contrary, was of a
liberating kind, so that each talent was developed by it in
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 1 89
its natural direction, and masters proceeded from it all
entirely different one from another. The Caracci
seemed born to be teachers of art ; they lived in a
time when the best had already been done on every
side, and hence they could present their pupils with
models in all departments. They were great artists,
great teachers ; but I could not say they were truly
gifted with the spirit (Geistreich),* It is a somewhat
bold saying, but so it seems to me."
After I had looked at a few more landscapes of
Claude's, I opened an artist's lexicon, to see what is
said of this great master. We found — " his chief merit
was in his palette"
We looked at one another, and laughed.
" There, you see," said Goethe, u how much we
learn if we rely on books, and take in all we find
written."
Tuesday, April 14, 18*9.
When I went in to-day, Goethe was at table
with Hofrath Meyer, talking about Italy and art. He
ordered a volume of Claude Lorraine to be laid before
us, in which Meyer found the landscape of which the
newspapers told us that Peel had given four thousand
pounds for the original. One must admit that it is a
beautiful picture, and that Mr. Peel has made no bad
bargain.
On the right side of the picture is a group of people
sitting and standing. A shepherd is leaning over a girl,
whom he seems to be instructing to play upon the pipe.
* " Geistreich" frequently means little more than clever or ingenious J
but it seems here to have a deeper signification, and the term " gifted with
the spirit" ha« beta borrowed from the American.-" Tram.
I9O CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
In the middle is a lake, in the full light of the sun ;
on the left, are cattle grazing in the shade of a grove.
The two groups balance one another admirably, and
the light has a magical effect, in the artist's usual
manner. There was then a discussion as to where the
original had long been, and in whose possession Meyer
had seen it when in Italy.
Conversation then turned on the new property of
the King of Bavaria at Rome. u I know the villa
very well/' said Meyer ; " I have often been there,
and still think with pleasure of the situation.
" The house is of moderate size. The King, no
doubt, will adorn it, and make it agreeable according to
his taste. In my time, the Duchess Amelia lived there,
and Herder in the next house. Afterwards, the Duke
of Sussex and the Earl of Munster lived there. Stran-
gers of high rank have always liked it, on account of the
healthy situation and superb prospect/ 9
I asked Meyer how far it was from the Villa di
Malta to the Vatican.
" From Trinita di Monte, which is near the villa,
and where the artists lived," said Meyer, " it is a good
half league. We went over the ground daily, and
often more than once."
" The road by the bridge," said I, " seems some-
what circuitous ; I should think it would be a shorter
way to cross the Tiber and go through the fields."
" It is not so," said Meyer ; " but we had this
notion, and often crossed the Tiber. I remember one
occasion when we were returning on a fine moonlight
night from the Vatican. Of our acquaintance, Bury,
Hirt, and Lips were with us, and we were engaged in
1829*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I9I
the customary dispute, — which is the greater, RafFaelle
or Michael Angelo ? So engaged, we entered the ferry.
When we had reached the opposite shore, and the
argument was still at its height, some wag — I think it
was Bury — proposed we should remain upon the water
till the strife was quite settled, and the parties agreed.
The proposal was acceded to, and the boatman had to
put off and row back. Now the dispute began to
grow animated, and when we reached the shore we
were always forced to put back, for the contest was
not decided. Thus we went on, hour after hour,
which suited nobody better than the boatman, who had
an addition of bajocchi each time. He had with him,
as an assistant, a boy of twelve years old, to whom
our conduct at last appeared strange.
" c Father,' said he, c what is the matter with these
men that they will not land, but we must always keep
going back when we reach the shore ? '
u c I know not, my son,' replied the boatman ; i but
I think they are mad/
" At last, in order not to row to and fro the whole
night, we came to a forced agreement, and landed."
We laughed at this pleasant anecdote of artistic
madness. Hofrath Meyer was in the best humour;
he continued to tell us about Rome, and Goethe and I
took pleasure in listening to him.
" This dispute about RafFaelle and Michael Angelo,"
said Meyer, " was the order of the day, and was intro-
duced whenever a number of artists met together large
enough to take the two sides. It generally began at an
inn, where we drank cheap good wine. Pictures,
and parts of pictures, were referred to, and when the
I92 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
opposition party would not concede this or that, an
immediate inspection of the pictures was found requi-
site. We left the inn and hurried to the Sistine Chapel,
the keys of which were in the hands of a shoemaker,
who would always open the door for a few groschen.
When we were before the pictures the work of demon-
stration began, and after the dispute had lasted long
enough we returned to the inn, to make up our differ-
ences over a bottle of wine, and to settle all contro-
versies. Thus we went on every day, and the shoe-
maker, by the Sistine Chapel, received many a fee of
four groschen."
Mention was then made of another shoemaker, who
generally hammered his leather on an antique marble
head. " It was the portrait of a Roman emperor," said
Meyer; "the antique work stood before the shoe-
maker's door, and we often saw him engaged in this
laudable occupation as we passed by."
Wednesday, April 15, 1829.
We talked of people who, without having any real
talent, are excited to productiveness, and of others
who write about things they do not understand.
" What seduces young people," said Goethe, u is this
— we live in a time in which so much culture is diffused,
that it has communicated itself, as it were, to the at-
mosphere which a young man breathes« Poetical and
philosophic thoughts live and move within him, he has
sucked them in with his very breath, but he thinks they
are his own property, and utters them as such. But
after he has restored to the time what he has received
from it, he remains poor. He is like a fountain which
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I93
plays for a while with the water with which it is sup-.,
plied, but which ceases to flow as soon as the liquid
treasure is exhausted."
Tuesday, September i, 1829.
I told Goethe of a person now travelling through
Weimar, who had heard a lecture of HegeFs on the
proof of the existence of a God. Goethe agreed with
me, that the time for such lectures was gone by.
" The period of doubt," said he, " is past ; men
now doubt as little the existence of a God as their
own, though the nature of the divinity, the immor-.
tality, the peculiarities of our own souls, and their
connection with our bodies, are eternal problems, with
respect to which our philosophers take us no farther.
A French philosopher, of the most recent times, begins
his chapter confidently thus : —
" ( It is acknowledged that man consists of two parts,
body and soul; accordingly, we will begin with the
body, and then speak of the soul. 9
"Fichte went a little farther, and extricated him-
self somewhat more cleverly from the dilemma, by
saying — 'We shall treat of man regarded as a body,
and of man regarded as a soul. 9 He felt too well that
a so closely combined whole could not be separated.
Kant has unquestionably done the best service, by
drawing the limits beyond which human intellect is
not able to penetrate, and leaving at rest the insoluble
problems. What a deal have people philosophized
about immortality — and how far have they got? I
doubt not of our immortality, for nature cannot
dispense with the entelecheia. But we are not all, in
like manner, immortal ; and he who would manifest
vol. 11. o
194 CONVERSATIONS. OF GOBTHfi» [1829*
himself in future as a great enteUcbeia^ must be one
now.
a While the Germans are tormenting themselves
with the solution of philosophical problems, the English,
with their great practical understanding, laugh at us,
and win the world. Everybody knows their declama-
tions against the slave-trade ; and while they have
palmed upon us all sorts of humane maxims as the real
foundation of their proceedings, it is at last discovered
that their true motive is a practical object, which the
English always notoriously require in order to act,
and which should have been known before. In their
extensive domains on the western coast of Africa
they themselves use the blacks, and it is against their
interest for them to be carried off. They have founded
large colonies of negroes in America, which are very
productive, and yearly return a large profit in blacks.
From these they can supply the demand in North
America, and since they thus carry on a highly pro-
fitable trade, an importation from without would be
against their commercial interests ; so they preach with
a practical view against the inhuman African slave«
trade. Even at the Congress of Vienna, the English
envoy denounced it with great zeal, but the Portu-
guese envoy had the good sense to reply quietly, that
he did not know they had come together to sit in judg-
ment on the world, or to decide upon principles of
morality. He well knew the object of England ; and
he had also his own, which he knew how to plead for
ana obtain«
Stnday, December 6> x8*9*
To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the first scene
l8*9*J CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I95
of the second act of tc Faust,"* The effect was
great» and gave me a high satisfaction. We are once
more transported into Faust's study, where Mephis-
tophiles finds all just as he had left it. He takes from
tiie hook Faust's old study-gown, and a thousand moths
and insects flutter out from it By the directions of
Mephistophiles as to where these are to settle down,
the locality is brought very clearly before our eyes.
He puts on the gown, while Faust lies behind a cur-
tain, in a state of paralysis, intending to play the
doctor's part once more. He pulls the bell, which
gives such an awful tone among the old solitary con-
vent-balls, that the doors spring open and the walls
tremble. The servant rushes in, and finds in Faust's
seat Mephistophiles, whom he does not recognise, but
for whom he has respect. In answer to inquiries he
gives news of Wagner, who has now become a celebrated
man, and is hoping for the return of his master. He is,
we hear, at this moment deeply occupied in his labora-
tory, seeking to produce a Homunculus. The servant
retires, and the Bachelor enters, — the same whom we
knew some years before as a shy young student, when
Mephistophiles (in Faust's gown) made game of him.
He is now become a man, and is so full of conceit
that even Mephistophiles can do nothing with him,
but moves his chair further and further, and at last
addresses the pit
Goethe read the scene quite to the end* I was
pleased with his youthful productive strength, and with
the closeness of the whole. " As the conception,"
* That is, the second act of the second part of ••Faust," which was net
published endue till after Goethe's death.— Tram.
O 2
I96 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
said Goethe, u is so old — for I have had it in my mind
for fifty years — the materials have accumulated to
such a degree, that the difficult operation is to separate
and reject. The invention of the whole second part
is really as old as I say ; but it may be an advan-
tage that I have not written it down till now, when
my knowledge of the world is so much clearer. I am
like one who in his youth has a great deal of small
silver and copper money, which in the course of his
life he constantly changes for the better, so that at last
the property of his youth stands before him in pieces
of pure gold."
We spoke about the character of the Bachelor. " Is
he not meant," said I, " to represent a certain class of
ideal philosophers ? "
" No/' said Goethe, " the arrogance which is pecu-
liar to youth, and of which we had such striking ex-
amples after our war for freedom, is personified in him.
Indeed, every one believes in his youth that the world
really began with him, and that all merely exists for his
sake.
" Thus, in the East, there was actually a man who
every morning collected his people about him, and
would not go to work till he had commanded the sun
to rise. But he was wise enough not to speak his
command till the sun of its own accord was really on
the point of appearing."
Goethe remained a while absorbed in silent thought ;
then he began as follows : —
"When one is old one thinks of worldly matters
otherwise than when one is young. Thus I cannot
but think that the demons, to teaze and make sport
1829*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. I97
with men, have placed among them single figures,
which are so alluring that every one strives after
them, and so great that nobody reaches them. Thus
they set up RafFaelle, with whom thought and act
were equally perfect; some distinguished followers
have approached him, but none have equalled him.
Thus, too, they set up Mozart as something unat-
tainable in music; and thus Shakspeare in poetry. I
know what you can say against this thought; but I
only mean natural character, the great innate qualities.
Thus, too, Napoleon is unattainable. That the Rus-
sians were so moderate as not to go to Constantinople
is indeed very great ; but we find a similar trait in
Napoleon, for he had the moderation not to go to
Rome."
Much was associated with this copious theme ; I
thought to myself in silence that the demons had
intended something of the kind with Goethe, inas-
much as he is a form too alluring not to be striven
after, and too great to be reached.
Wednesday, December 16, 1829.
To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the second
scene of the second act of " Faust," where Mephis-
tophiles visits Wagner, who is on the point of making
a human being by chemical means. The work suc-
ceeds; the Homunculus appears in the phial, as a
shining being, and is at once active. He repels
Wagner's questions upon incomprehensible subjects;
reasoning is not his business ; he wishes to act, and
begins with our hero, Faust, who, in his paralyzed
condition, needs a higher aid. As a being to whom
tgS CONVERSATIONS Of GOtTHE. [1829»
the present is perfectly clear and transparent, the
Homunculus sees into the soul of the sleeping Faust,
who, enraptured by a lovely dream, beholds Leda visited
by swans, while she is bathing in a pleasant spot*
The Homunculus, by describing this dream, brings a
most charming picture before our eyes» Mephisto*
philes sees nothing of it, and the Homunculus taunts
him with his northern nature«
<c Generally," said Goethe, <c you will perceive that
Mephistophiles appears to disadvantage beside the
Homunculus, who is like him in clearness of intellect,
and so much superior to him in his tendency to the beau-
tiful, and to a useful activity. He styles him cousin 5
for such spiritual beings as this Homunculus, not yet
saddened and limited by a thorough assumption of
humanity, were classed with the demons, and thus
there is a Sort of relationship between the two/*
" Certainly," said I, u Mephistophiles appears here
in a subordinate situation ; yet I cannot help thinking
that he has had a secret influence on the production of
the Homunculus. We have known him in this way
before; and, indeed, in the l Helena* he always
appears as a being secretly working. Thus he again
elevates himself with regard to the whole, and in
his lofty repose he can well afford to put up with a
little in particulars."
" Your feeling of the position is very correct," said
Goethe ; " indeed* I have doubted whether I ought
not to put some verses into the mouth of Mephis-
tophiles as he goes to Wagner, and the Homunculus
is still in a state of formation, so that his co-operation
may be expressed and rendered plain to the reader."
ifcU)»] CONVERSATION« OF GOETHE, J99
" It would do no harm," said I« " Yet this is
intimated by the words with which Mephtstophiles
closes the scene —
* Am Ende hängen wir doch ab
Von Creatoren die wir machten."*
We are dependent after all,
On creatures that we make.
" True*" said Goethe, " that would be almost
enough for the attentive } but I will think about some
additional verses."
" But," said I, " those concluding Words are very
great, and will not easily be penetrated to their full
extent."
" I think," said Goethe, " I have given them a bone
to pick. A father who has six sons is a lost man,
let him do what he may. Kings and ministers, too,
who have raised many persons to high places, may
have something to think about from their own expe-
rience."
Faust's dream about Leda again came into my head,
and I regarded this as a most important feature in the
composition.
" It is wonderful to me," said I, (C how the several
parts of such a work bear upon, perfect, and sustain
one another ! By this dream of Leda, ' Helena' gains
its proper foundation. There we have a constant
allusion to swans and the child of a swan ; but here we
have the act itself, and when we come afterwards to
4 Helena,' with the sensible impression of such a
situation, how much more dear and perfect does all
appear ! *
200 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1829.
•
Goethe said I was right, and was pleased that I
remarked this.
" Thus you will see," said he, " that in these earlier
acts the chords of the classic and romantic are constantly
struck, so that, as on a rising ground, where both forms
of poetry are brought out, and in some sort balance one
another, we may ascend to c Helena.' "
" The French," continued Goethe, u now begin to
think justly of these matters. Both classic and roman-
tic, say they, are equally good. The only point is to
use these forms with judgment, and to be capable of
excellence. You can be absurd in both, and then one
is as worthless as the other. This, I think, is rational
enough, and may content us for a while."
Sunday, December 20, 1829.
Dined with Goethe. We spoke of the Chancellor,
and I asked whether he did not bring any news of
Manzoni, on his return from .Italy.
" He wrote to me about him," said Goethe. " The
Chancellor paid Manzoni a visit ; he lives on his
estate near Milan, and is, I am sorry to say, always
indisposed."
" It is singular," said I, " that we so frequently
find persons of distinguished talents, especially poets,
with weak constitutions."
" The extraordinary performances of these men,"
said Goethe* " presuppose a very delicate organi-
zation, which makes them susceptible to unusual
emotions, and capable of hearing celestial voices. Such
an organization, in conflict with the world and the
elements, is easily disturbed and injured ; and he who
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. -201
does not, like Voltaire, combine with great sensibility
an equally uncommon toughness, is easily exposed to
perpetual indisposition. Schiller was always ill. When
I first knew him, I thought he could not live a month ;
but he, too, had a certain toughness; he sustained
himself many years, and would have done so longer,
if he had lived in a way more favourable to health."
We spoke of the theatre, and how far a certain per-
formance had been successful.
" I have seen Unzelmann in the part," said Goethe.
" It was always a pleasure to see him, on account of
the perfect freedom of his mind, which he imparted to
us i for it is with acting as with all other arts. What
the artist does or has done excites in us the mood in
which he himself was when he did it. A free mood
in the artist makes us free ; a constrained one makes us
uncomfortable. We usually find this freedom of the
artist where he is fully equal to his subject. It is on
this account we are so pleased with Dutch pictures ;
the artists painted the life around them, of which they
were perfect masters. If we are to feel this freedom
of mind in an actor, he must, by study, imagination,
and natural disposition, be perfect master of his part,
must have all bodily requisites at his command, and
must be upheld by a certain youthful energy. But
study is not enough without imagination, and study and
imagination together are not enough without natural
disposition. Women do the. most through imagina-
tion and temperament ; thence came the excellence of
Madame Wolff."
We pursued this subject further, talking of many of
the chief actors of the Weimar stage, and mentioning
202 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* J 1809.
their performance in several parts with due acknow-
ledgment,
In the mean while, " Faust " came once more into
my head, and I talked of the manner in which the
Homunculus could be rendered clear upon the stage,
" If we do not see the little man himself," said I,
" we must see the light in the bottle, and his important
words must be uttered in a way that would surpass the
capacity of a child."
" Wagner," said Goethe, u must not let the bottle
go out of his hands, and the voice must sound as if it
issued from the bottle. It would be a part for a
ventriloquist such as I have heard« A man of that
kind would solve the difficulty to a certainty*"
We then talked of the Grand Carnival, and the
possibility of representing it upon the stage« u It
would be a little more than the market-place at
Naples." said I.
" It would require a very large theatre," said Goethe,
u and is hardly to be imagined,"
" I hope to see it some day," was my answer.
u I look forward with especial delight to the ele-
phant, led by Prudence, and surmounted by Victory,
with Hope and Fear in chains on each side. This
is an allegory that could not easily be surpassed«"
" The elephant would not be the first on the stage,"
said Goethe. " At Paris there is one, which forms aa
entire diameter. He belongs to a popular party, and
takes the crown from one king and places it on
another, which must indeed have an imposing effect.
Then, when he is called at the end of the piece, he
appears quite alone, makes his bow, and retires« You
1829O OONTERßATlOKÖ OF GOETHE« a<>3
see, therefore, that we might reckon on an elephant for
our carnival. But the whole scene is much too large,
and requites a manager such as is not easily found.
ct Still, it is so brilliant and effective," said I, " that
a stage will scarcely allow it to escape. Then how
does it build itself up, and become more and more
striking ! First, there are the beautiful gardeners,
male and female, who decorate the stage, and at the
same time form* a mass, so that the various objects, as
they increase in importance, are never without spec-
tators and a background. Then there is the team of
dragons, which coming from the background, through
the air, soars overhead. Then the appearance of the
great Pan with die apparent fire, and its extinction by
the wet clouds, which roll to the spot. If all this is
carried out as you have conceived, the public will, in
its amazement, confess that it has not sense and intellect
Sufficient to appreciate such a prolusion of phenomena."
** Pray, no more about the public," said Goethe ;
w I wish to hear nothing about it. The chief point
is, that the piece is written 5 die world may now do
with it as it pleases, and use it as far as it can."
We then talked of the " Boy Lenker."
* c That Faust is concealed under the mask of Plutus,
and Mephistophiles under that oF Avarice, you will
have already perceived. But who is the c Boy Len-
ker?'"
I hesitated, and could not answer.
u It is Euphorion,** said Goethe.
u But how can he appear in the carnival here,"
asked I, " when he is not born till the third act.
" Euphorion," replied Goethe, " is not a human,
204 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE» [^^9'
but an allegorical being* In him is personified poetry,
which is bound to neither time, place, nor person*
The same spirit who afterwards chooses to be tupho-
rion, appears here as the ( Boy Lenker,' and is so far
like a spectre, that he can be present everywhere, and
at all times.
Sunday, December 27, 1829.
To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the scene of
the paper-money.*
" You recollect," said he, " that at the imperial
assembly the end of the song is that there is a want of
money, and that Mephistophiles promises to provide
some. This theme continues through the masquerade,
when Mephistophiles contrives that the Emperor, while
in the mask of the great Pan, shall sign a paper, which,
being thus endowed with a money-value, is multiplied
a thousand-fold and circulated. Now, in this scene the
affair is discussed before the Emperor, who does hot
know what he has done. The treasurer hands over
the bank-notes, and makes everything clear. The
Emperor is at first enraged, but afterwards, on a closer
inspection of his profit, makes splendid presents of
paper-money to those around him, and as he retires
drops some thousand crowns, which the fat court-fool
picks up, and then goes off at once to turn his paper
into land."
While Goethe read this noble scene, I was pleased
with the happy notion of deducing the paper-money
from Mephistophiles, and thus in so striking a manner
bringing in and immortalizing one of the main interests
of the present day.
* In the second part of " Faust."
1829.] CONVERSATIONS OE GOETHE. 205
Scarcely had the scene been read over and discussed*
when Goethe's son came down and seated himself with
us at the table. He told us of Cooper's last novel,
which he had read, and which he now described admi-
rably in his own graphic manner. We made no allu-
sion to the scene we had just read, but he began of his
own accord to tell a great deal about Prussian treasury-
bills, and to say that they were paid for above their
value. While young Goethe went on talking in this
way, I looked at the father with a smile, which he
returned, and thus we gave each other to understand
how very apropos was the subject of the scene.
Wednesday, December 30, 1829.
To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the next
scene.
" Now they have got money at the imperial court,"
said he, " they want to be amused. The Emperor
wishes to see Paris and Helen, and they are, through
magical art, to appear in person. Since, however,
Mephistophiles has nothing to do with Greek antiquity,
and has no power over such personages,, this task is
assigned to Faust, who succeeds in it perfectly. The
scene showing the means which Faust must adopt to
render the apparition possible is not quite complete yet,
but I will read it to you next time. The actual appear-
ance of Paris and Helen you shall hear to-day."
I was happy in the anticipation of what was coming,
and Goethe began to read. I saw the Emperor and
his court pass through the ancient hall to witness the
spectacle. The curtain rises, and the stage, representing
a great temple, is before my eyes. Mephistophiles is in
206 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l& 2 9*
the prompter's box, the astrologer is on one side of the
proscenium, and Faust, with the tripod, on the other.
He utters the necessary formula, and Paris appears
rising from the fumes of incense« While this hand-
some youth is moving about to ethereal music, a
description of him is given. He sits down, and leans
with his arm bent on his head, as we find him in an*
cient sculptures. He is the delight of the ladies, who
express how they are charmed by the bloom of his
youth, and is hated by the men, who are moved by
jealousy and hatred, and depreciate him as much as
they can. Paris goes to sleep, and Helen makes her
appearance. She approaches the sleeper, imprints a
kiss upon his lips, retires from him, and then turns
round to gaze at him. While in the act of turning,
she looks especially charming, and makes the same
impression on the men which Paris made upon the
women. The men are inspired to love and praise, the
women to envy, hatred, and detraction. Faust himself
is quite enraptured, and at the aspect of the beauty
which he has called forth forgets time, place, and cir-
cumstance, so that Mephistophiles finds it necessary to
remind him every moment that he is getting out of his
part, A mutual affection between Paris and Helen
seems to increase, the youth clasps her to carry her
away ; Faust is about to tear him from her, but, when
he turns the key towards him, a violent explosion
ensues, the apparitions melt into vapour* and Faust
falls paralyzed to the ground.
1
I
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE.
1830.
1830.
Sunday, January 3, 1830.
Goethe showed me the English Annual, "The
Keepsake," for 1830, with very fine engravings, and
some extremely interesting letters from Lord Byron,
which I read after dinner. He himself had taken up
the latest French translation of his cc Faust," by Gerard,
which he turned over, and seemed occasionally to read.
" Some singular thoughts pass through my head,"
said he, u on reflecting that this book is now read in a
language over which Voltaire ruled fifty years ago.
You cannot understand my thoughts upon this subject,
and have no idea of the influence which Voltaire and
his great contemporaries had in my youth, and how
they governed the whole civilized world. My bio-
graphy does not clearly show what was the influence
of these men in my youth, and what pains it cost me
to defend myself against them, and to maintain my
own ground in a true relation to nature."
We talked further about Voltaire, and Goethe
recited to me his poem " Les Systemes," from which
I perceived how he must have studied and appropriated
such things in early life.
VOL. 11. p
210 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
He praised Gerard's translation as very successful,
although mostly in prose.
u I do not like," he said, " to read my * Faust,' any
more in German, but in this French translation all
seems again fresh, new, and spirited."
" * Faust/ " continued he, " is, however, quite in-
commensurable, and all attempts to bring it nearer to
the understanding are in vain. Also, it should be con-
sidered that the first part is the product of a somewhat
dark state in the individual. However, this very dark-
ness has a charm for men's minds, and they .work upon
it till they are tired, as upon all insoluble problems."
Sunday, January 10, 1830.
This afternoon, Goethe afforded me great pleasure
by reading the scene in which Faust visits the
Mothers.
The novelty and unexpectedness of the subject, and
Goethe's manner of reading the scene, struck me so
forcibly, that I felt myself wholly transported into the
situation of Faust when he shudders at the communi-
cation from Mephistophiles.
Although I had heard and felt the whole, yet so
much remained an enigma to me, that I felt myself
compelled to ask Goethe for some explanation. But
he, in his usual manner, wrapped himself up in mys-
tery, as he looked on me with wide open eyes, and
repeated the words —
" « Die Mütter ! Mütter ! 's klingt so wunderlich/ "
The Mothers ! Mothers ! nay, it sounds so strange.
" I can reveal to you no more," said he, " except
that I found, in Plutarch, that in ancient Greece men-
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 211
tion was made of the Mothers as divinities. This is
all that I owe to others, the rest is my own inven-
tion. Take the manuscript home with you, study it
carefully, and see what you can make of it."
I was very happy while studying this remarkable
scene once more in quiet, and took the following view
of the peculiar character and influence, the abode and
outward circumstances, of the Mothers : —
Could we imagine that that huge sphere our earth
had an empty space in its centre, so that one might go
hundreds of miles in one direction, without coming in
contact with anything corporeal, this would be the
abode of those unknown goddesses to whom Faust
descends. They live, as it were, beyond all place;
for nothing stands firm in their neighbourhood : they
also live beyond all time ; for no heavenly body shines
upon them which can rise or set, and mark the alter-
nation of day and night.
Thus, dwelling in eternal obscurity and loneliness,
these Mothers are creative beings ; they are the
creating and sustaining principle from which every-
thing proceeds that has life and form on the surface
of the earth. Whatever ceases to breathe returns
to them as a spiritual nature, and they preserve it
until a fit occasion arises to come into existence anew.
All souls and forms of what has been, or will be,
hover about like clouds in the vast space of their
abode. So are the Mother^ surrounded, and the
magician must enter their dominion, if he would
obtain power over the form of a being, and call back
former existences to seeming life.
The eternal metamorphosis of earthly existence,
p 2
212 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1830,
birth and growth, destruction and new formation, are
thus the unceasing care of the Mothers ; and, as in
everything which receives new life on earth, the female
principle is most in operation, these creating divinities
are rightly thought of as female, and the august title of
Mothers may be given to them not without reason.
All this is, indeed, no more than a poetic creation ;
but the limited human mind cannot penetrate much
further, and is contented to find something on which it
can repose. Upon earth we see phenomena, and feel
effects, of which we do not know whence they come
and whither they go. We infer a spiritual origin —
something divine, of which we have no notion, and
for which we have no expression, and- which we must
draw down to ourselves, and anthropomorphize > that
we may in some degree embody and make compre-
hensible our dark forebodings.
Thus have arisen all mythi, which from century to
century have lived among nations, and, in like manner,
this new one of Goethe's, which has at least the
appearance of some natural truth, and may be reckoned
among the best that was ever devised.
(Sup.*) Monday, January 18, 1830.
Goethe spoke of Lavater, and said a great deal in
praise of his character. He also related to me traits of
their early intimate friendship, and how in former times
they had often slept in the same bed. u It is to be
regretted," continued he, " that a weak mysticism so
soon set bounds to the flight of his genius."
(Sup.*) Friday, January 22, 1830.
We spoke about the History of Napoleon by Wal-
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 213
ter, Scott. " It is true," said Goethe, " that the
author may be reproached with great inaccuracy, and
equally great partiality, but even these two defects
give to his work particular value in my eyes. The
success of the book, in England, was great beyond all
expectation ; and hence we see that Walter Scott, in
this very hatred for Napoleon and the French, has
been the true interpreter and representative of the
English popular opinion and national feeling. His
book will not be by any means a document for the
history of France, but it will be one for the history of
England. At all events, it is a voice which could not
be wanting in this important historical process.
" It is generally agreeable to me to hear the most
contrary opinions of Napoleon. I am now reading
the work by Bignon, which appears to me to possess
particular merit/'
Sunday, January 24, 1830.
" I have lately received a letter from a celebrated
salt-miner at Stotternheim," said Goethe, " which
opens in a remarkable manner, and which I must
communicate to you."
" I have had an experience," he writes, " which
will not be lost upon me. But what follows this
introduction ? Nothing less than a loss of at least a
thousand dollars. The shaft, whence you go down
twelve hundred feet to the rock-salt, through a soft
soil and stone, he has incautiously neglected to prop
up at the sides. The soft soil has detached itself, and
has so filled up the pit, that an extremely expensive
operation is required to get it out again. He will,
then, at a depth of twelve hundred feet, put in metal
214 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
pipes, to be secure against the consequences of a
similar mischance. He should have done this at once,
and he certainly would have done it, were there not in
such people a degree of rashness of which we have no
notion, and which is requisite for such enterprises.
He is very easy about his misfortune, and writes,
'I have had an experience which will hot be lost upon
me.' This is quite the sort of man that one likes ; a
man who, without complaining, is at once active again,
and always on his feet. What say you to it ? Is it
not good ? "
" It reminds me of Sterne," I replied, " who com-
plains that he had not used his sorrows like a reason-
able man."
^ c It is something similar," said Goethe.
u I am also reminded of Behrisch," continued I,
a when he tells you what experience is. I have lately
been reading the chapter for renewed edification.*
a c Experience/ says he, " c is nothing else than that
one experiences by experience what one would not
willingly have experienced.' "
" Yes," said Goethe, smiling, " such are the old
jokes with which we so shamefully wasted our
time."
" Behrisch," said I, " seems to have been a man
füll of grace and elegance. How pleasant is the joke
in the wine-cellar, where he tries to prevent the young
man from visiting his mistress, and accomplishes this
in the pleasantest manner, fastening on his sword —
now this way, now that — till he makes everybody
• That is to say, in Goethe's Autobiography (Dichtung und Wahrheit),
Part II. Book vii. — Trans.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 215
laugh, and causes the young man to forget the appointed
time."
c< Yes," said Goethe, " that was pleasant ; it would
have been one of the most attractive scenes on the
stage , indeed, Behrisch was altogether a good character
for the theatre."
We then talked over all the oddities told of Behrisch
in Goethe's " Life" ; his gray clothes, where silk,
satin, and wool made strong contrasts one with
another, and his constant care always to dress himself
in a new gray. Then how he wrote poems, imitated
the compositor, and extolled the dignity of the pen-
man ; and how it was his favourite pastime to lie at the
window, to observe the dress of the passers-by, and in
his thoughts so to alter it that the people would have
been highly ridiculous if so attired.
u Then his ordinary joke with the postman ; how
do you like it ? is not that droll ? "
" I do not know it," said I ; " there is nothing
about it in your memoirs."
" Strange ! " said Goethe, " then I will tell it you.
When we were lying together at the window, and
Behrisch saw the letter-carrier coming up the street,
and going from one house to another, he would take
out a groschen, and lay it by him on the window-
sill.
u c Do you see the letter-carrier ? ' said he, turning
to me. * He is coming nearer and nearer, and will be
over here immediately, I can see : he has a letter for
you ; and what a letter ! no ordinary affair, but a letter
with a check in it ; with a check for — I will not say
how much , see, he is coming in. No ! but he will
2l6 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1830.
come immediately. There he is again. Now !
Here ! here ! my friend, this is the place ! He goes
by — how stupid ! O, how stupid ! how can one be
so stupid, and act so unjustifiably ! Unjustifiably in
two respects ! Unjustifiably towards you, to whom
he does not bring the check which he had in his
hands ; and quite unjustifiably towards himself, to lose
this groschen, which I had taken out for him, and
which I now put up again.' Then, with the great-
est dignity, he would put the groschen again into his
pocket, and we had something to laugh at."
I was amused with this anecdote, which was quite
of a piece with the rest. I asked Goethe whether he
had ever seen Behrisch in later days.
" I saw him again," said Goethe, " soon after my
arrival at Weimar, about the year 1776, when in com-
pany with the Duke I made a visit to Dessau, whither
Behrisch had been invited as tutor of the Crown
Prince. I found him the same as ever — as a polished
courtier of the best humour."
" What did he say," asked I, " about your becom-
ing so famous in the interval."
" * Did I not tell you so/ were his first words, c was
it not right that you did not have your verses printed
then, and that you waited till you had done something
really good ? the things were indeed not so bad, other-
wise I should not have written them out. If we had
remained together, you should not have had even the
others printed. I would have copied them out for you,
and they would have gone off quite as well.' You see
he was the same as ever. He was liked at Court. I
always saw him at the Prince's table. I saw him for
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 21 7
the last time in the year 1801, when he had become
old, but was still in the best humour. He occupied
some very handsome apartments in the castle, one of
which he completely filled with geraniums, which were
then all the rage. Now the botanists had made some
distinctions and divisions among the geraniums, and
had given a certain class the name of pelargoniums.
This the old gentleman could not bear, and he abused
the botanists sorely. * The blockheads !' said he, ' I
think I have filled my room with geraniums, and now
they come in and tell me they are pelargoniums. What
have* I to do with them if they are not geraniums, and
what have I to do with pelargoniums.' Thus he would
go on for the half hour together, and you will see that
he quite kept up his old character/'
We then talked about the a Classical Walpurgis-
night," * the beginning of which Goethe had lately read
me.
" The mythological figures which crowd upon me,"
said he, " are innumerable, but I restrain myself, and
merely select those that produce the proper pictorial
effect. Faust has now met Chiron, and I hope I
shall be successful with the scene. If I work hard
I shall have done the Walpurgis-night in a couple of
months. Nothing more shall take me off c Faust,' for it
will be odd enough if I live to finish it, and yet it is
possible. The fifth act is as good as done, and the
fourth will almost write itself."
Goethe then talked about his health, and congratu-
lated himself about keeping so constantly well. " My
good state of preservation," said he, " I owe to Vogel —
* In the second part of " Faust."— Tram.
2l8 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
without him I should have gone off long ago. Vogel
was born for a physician, and is one of the most decided
geniuses I ever knew. However, we will not say
how good he is, for fear he should be taken away from
us."
(Sup.*) Monday, January 25, 1830.
I brought Goethe the indexes of Dumont's literary
remains, which I had made as a preparation for their
publication. Goethe read them with great attention,
and appeared astonished at the mass of knowledge,
interest, and ideas, which he had reason to suppose
existed in the author of such varied and copious manu-
scripts.
u Dumont," said he, u must have possessed a mind
of great extent. Amongst the subjects which he has
treated there is not one which is not interesting and
important in itself, and the choice of subjects always
shows of what stuff a man is made. It is not desirable
that the human intellect should possess such univer-
sality as to treat all subjects with equal talent and
felicity ; but even if the author does not succeed
equally with them all, the mere attempt and desire to
treat them give me a very high opinion of him. I
consider it particularly remarkable and estimable that a
practical, useful, and benevolent tendency prevails in
•all he does."
I had also brought him the first chapter of the
" Travels to Paris," which I would have read to him,
but which he preferred to study alone.
He then joked upon the difficulty of reading, and
the presumption of many people, who, without any
previous study and preparatory knowledge, would at
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 219
once read every philosophical and scientific work, as if
it were nothing but a romance. " The good people,"
continued he, " know not what time and trouble it
costs to learn to read. I have been employed for
eighteen years on it, and cannot say that I have reached
the goal yet."
(Sup.) Wednesday, January 27, 1830.
I dined very happily with Goethe. He spoke with
great commendation of Herr von Martius. " His
discovery of the spiral tendency," said he, u is of the
highest importance. If I had anything more to desire
in him, it would be that he should carry out his dis-
covered primitive phenomenon (Urphänomenon) with
decided boldness, and have the courage to announce a
fact as a law, without too much seeking its confirma-
tion at a distance."
He then showed me the transactions of the natural-
philosophical assembly at Heidelberg, with fac-similes
of the handwriting printed on the back, which we
observed, and formed our conclusions upon the cha-
racter.
" I know very well," said Goethe, " that science
does not derive so much benefit from these meetings as
one might imagine, but they are excellent, inasmuch as
people learn to know and esteem one another ; whence
it follows that a new doctrine of a distinguished man
gains currency, and he in his turn becomes inclined to
acknowledge and assist us in our tendencies of another
department. Under every circumstance we see that
something happens, and no one can tell what may
come of it."
Goethe then showed me a letter from an English
220 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1830.
author, with the address — To his Highness the Prince
Goethe. " For this title I have probably to thank the
German journalists," said Goethe, laughing, "who,
out of too great love, have named me the prince of
German poets. And the consequence of the innocent
German error, is the equally innocent English one."
Goethe then returned to Herr von Marti us, and
praised him for possessing imagination. " In fact,"
continued he, " a great natural philosopher without
this high gift is impossible. I do not mean an imagina-
tion which goes into the vague and imagines things
which do not exist ; but I mean one which does not
abandon the actual soil of the earth, and, which steps to
supposed and conjectured things by the standard of the
real and the known. Then it may prove whether this
or that supposition be possible, and whether it is not in
•contradiction with known laws. Such an imagination
presupposes an enlarged tranquil mind, which has at its
command a wide survey of the living world and its
laws."
Whilst we were speaking, a packet arrived contain-
ing a translation of "Die Geschwister" (the Brother
and Sister) into Bohemian, which appeared to give
Goethe great pleasure.
Sunday, January 31, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. We talked of Milton.
" I have lately," said Goethe, " read his c Samson,'
which has more of the antique spirit than any produc-
tion of any other modern poet. He is very great, and
his own blindness enabled him to describe with so much
truth the situation of Samson. Milton was really a
poet j one to whom we owe all possible respect."
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 221
The newspapers were brought in, and we saw in
the Berlin theatrical intelligence that whales and sea-
monsters had been introduced on the stage there.
Goethe read in the French paper " Le Temps/' an
article on the enormous revenue of the English clergy,
which amounts to more than in all the rest of Christen-
dom put together.
" It has been maintained," said Goethe, " that the
world is governed by pay ; this I know, that from pay
we can find out whether it is well or ill governed."
(Sup.*) Sunday, January 31, 1830.
Paid a visit to Goethe, in company with the Prince.
He received us in his work-room.
We spoke of the different editions of his works,
when I was surprised to hear that he himself did not
possess the greater part of these editions. He had not
even the first edition of his " Roman Carnival," with
engravings from his own original drawings. He had
bid, he said, six dollars for it at an auction, but did not
get it.
He then showed us the first manuscript of his
" Götz von Berlichingen," quite in the original form,
just as he had written it fifty years ago, in a few weeks,
at the instigation of his sister. The fine strokes of the
handwriting already bore completely the free clear
character which his later German writing afterwards
retained, and retains even now. The manuscript was
very clear, whole pages could* be read without the least
correction, so that one would rather take it for a copy
than the first rough draft.
Goethe wrote his earliest works, as he told us, with
222 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
his own hand, even his " Weither"; but the manu-
script has been lost. In later times, on the contrary,
he has dictated almost everything, and there are only
poems and lightly noted sketches in his own hand.
Very often he did not think of taking a copy of a
new production ; but frequently abandoned the most
valuable works to chance, often sending the only
copy he possessed to the printing-office at Stutt-
gard.
After we had sufficiently looked at the manuscript of
" Götz von Berlichingen," Goethe showed us the
original of his " Italian Journey." In these daily
noted down observations and remarks, there are the
same good qualities in the handwriting as in the
" Götz." All is decided, firm, and sure ; there are no
corrections ; and one sees that the details of his
momentary notes were always fresh and clear in the
mind of the writer. Nothing could have been changed
for the better excepting the paper, which was different
in form and colour in every town at which the traveller
stopped.
* Towards the end of the manuscript I found a spirited
pen-and-ink drawing by Goethe, namely, the repre-
sentation of an Italian advocate, holding a speech before
the court in his robe of office. It was the most
remarkable figure that one could imagine, and the
dress was so striking, that one would have thought he
had chosen it to go to a masquerade. And yet all was
but a faithful copy of real life. With his forefinger
upon the point of hjs thumb, and the rest of his fingers
stretched out, the stout orator stood comfortably
enough, and this slight movement was in perfect
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 223
accordance with the great perruque with which he
had adorned himself.
Wednesday, February 3, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. We talked of Mozart.
" I saw him," said Goethe, " at seven years old,
when he gave a concert while travelling our way. I
myself was about fourteen years old, and remember
perfectly the little man, with his frisure and sword."
I stared, for it seemed to me almost wonderful that
Goethe was old enough to have seen Mozart when a
child.
(Sup.*) Wednesday, February 3, 1830.
We spoke of the " Globe" and the " Temps," and
thft led to the French literature and literati.
" Guizot," said Goethe, amongst other things, " is
a man after my own heart ; he is solid. He possesses
deep knowledge, combined with an enlightened liberal-
ity, which being above parties goes its own way. I
am curious to see what part he will play in the Cham-
ber, to which he has just been elected."
" People, who only appear to know him super-
ficially," returned I, " have described him as some-
what pedantic."
" It remains to be known," answered Goethe,
" with what sort of pedantry he is reproached. All
distinguished men who, in their mode of life adopt a
sort of regularity and firm principles, who have
reflected much, and who do not trifle with the affairs
of life, may very easily appear to be pedants in the
eyes of superficial observers. Guizot is a far-seeing,
224 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
calm, constant man, who in the face of French fickle-
ness cannot be sufficiently prized, and is exactly such a
man as they want."
" Villemain," continued Goethe, " is perhaps more
brilliant as an orator ; he possesses the art of thoroughly
developing a subject from its foundation ; he is never
at a loss for striking expressions with which to fix the
attention of his hearers, and awaken them to loud
applause ; but he is far more superficial than Guizot,
and far less practical.
a As for Cousin, he can indeed give little to us
Germans, since the philosophy which he introduces to
his countrymen as something new, has been known to
us for years ; but he is of great importance for the
French. He will give them an entirely new tendency.
" Cuvier, the great naturalist, is admirable for *his
power of representation and his style. No one ex-
pounds a fact better than he ; but he has scarcely any
philosophy. He will bring up very well informed, but
few profound scholars."
It was the more interesting to me to hear all this, as
it accorded with Dumont's view of the persons in
question. I promised Goethe to copy the passages
relating to this subject from Dumont's manuscript,
that he might compare them with his own opinion.
The mention of Dumont brought the conversation
to the intimacy of Dumont with Bentham, on which
subject Goethe expressed himself as follows : —
" It is an interesting problem for me," said he,
" when I see that a rational and moderate man like
Dumont could be the disciple and faithful worshipper
ofthat madman Bentham."
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 225
" To a certain extent," returned I, " Bentham is
to be looked upon as a twofold person. I distinguish
Bentham the genius — who discovered the principles
which Dumont rescued from oblivion, by working
them out — from Bentham the impassioned, who,
through an exaggerated zeal for utility, overstepped
the limits of his own doctrine, and thus became a
radical both in politics and in religion,"
cc That is a new problem for me," returned
Goethe, cc that an old man can close the career
of a long life, by becoming a radical in his last
days."
I endeavoured to solve this contradiction, by re-
marking that Bentham, being fully convinced of the
excellence of his doctrine and his legislation, and of the
impossibility of introducing them into England without
an entire change in the system of Government, allowed
himself to be carried away so much the more by his
passionate zeal, as he came but little into contact with
the outward world, and was unable to judge of the
danger of violent overthrow.
" Dumont, on the contrary," continued I, cc who
possesses more clearness and less passion, has never
approved of Bentham's exaggeration, and has been far
removed from felling into a like fault himself. Besides,
he has had the advantage of applying Bentham's prin-
ciples in a country which, in consequence of the
political events of the times, might be regarded as
new — namely, in Geneva, where everything perfectly
succeeded, and the fortunate result proved the worth
of the principle."
<c Dumont," returned Goethe, " is a moderate
vol. 11. Q^
<2ÄÖ CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
liberal, just as all rational people are and ought to
t>e, and as I myself am. It is in this spirit I have
endeavoured to act during a long life."
u The true liberal," he continued, u endeavours to
effect as much good as he can, with the means which
he has at command ; but he would not extirpate evils,
which are often inevitable, with fire and sword. He
endeavours, by a judicious progress, gradually to
remove glaring defects, without at the same time de-
stroying an equal amount of good by violent measures.
He contents himself in this ever imperfect world
with what is good, until time and circumstances
favour his attaining something better."
(Sup.) Saturday, February 6, 1830.
Dined with Frau von Goethe. Young Goethe
related some pleasant anecdotes of his grandmother,
u Frau Rath Goethe," of Frankfort, whom he had
visited twenty years before as a student, and with
whom he was one day invited to dine at the Prince
Primate's. The Prince, as a mark of particular polite-
ness, had come to meet the Frau Rath on the stairs ;
but as he wore his usual clerical costume, she took
him for an Abbe, and paid him no particular respect.
Even when first seated by his side at table, she did
not put on the most friendly face. In the course of
the conversation, however, she gradually perceived,
from the deportment of the rest of the guests, that he
was the Primate. The Prince then drank the health
of her and her son, whereupon she rose and proposed
the health of his highness.
1830,] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 22 J
Sunday, February 7, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. A great deal of conversation
about the Prince Primate — that he had contrived to
defend him by a skilful turn at the Empress of Aus-
tria's table ; the Prince's deficiency in philosophy ; his
dilletante love of painting, without taste ; the picture
given to Miss Gore ; his goodness of heart and weak
liberality, which at last brought him to poverty. Con-
versation on the nature of the " Desobligeant." After
dinner young Goethe, with Walter and Wolf, appeared
in his masquerade dress, in the character of Klingsohr,
and then went to Court.
Wednesday, February 10, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. He spoke with real gratifi-
cation of the poem written by Riemer, for the festival
of the 2d February.
u All," added Goethe, " that Riemer does, is fit to
be seen both by master and journeyman."
We talked also of the classic Walpurgis-night, and
he said that he came to things which surprised even
himself. The subject, too, had become more diffuse
than he had expected.
" I am not half through it," said he, " but I will
keep to it, and hope to have finished it by Easter.
You shall see nothing more of it before, but, as soon
as it is done, I will give it to you to take home, that
you may examine it quietly. If you made up the
thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth volumes,* so that we
might send off the last part at Easter, it would be a
good arrangement, and we should have the summer
* That is, of Goethe's complete works.
<^2
228 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
open for something great. I would occupy myself
with Faust, and endeavour to get over the fourth
act."
I was pleased with this notion, and promised every
assistance on my part.
Goethe then sent his servant to inquire after the
Grand-Duchess Dowager, who had been very ill, and
seemed to him in a dangerous situation.
" She should not have seen the masquerade," said
he ; " but princes are accustomed to have their own
way, and thus all the protests of the Court and the
physicians were in vain. With the same strong will
with which she once confronted Napoleon, she now
resists her bodily weakness ; and can foresee already
that she will go off, like the Grand-Duke, in the full
vigour and mastery of her mind, although her body
may have ceased to obey it."
Goethe appeared in low spirits, and remained silent
for a while. Soon, however, we again conversed on
cheerful subjects ; and f he told me of a book written
in defence of Sir Hudson Lowe.
" It contains," he said, " most valuable traits,
which can only have been derived from immediate
eye-witnesses. You know that Napoleon ordinarily
wore a dark-green uniform. It was at last so much
worn and sun-burnt as entirely to lose its colour, and a
necessity was felt of supplying its place with another.
He wished for the same dark-green colour, but no
article of the sort was to be found in the island. There
was indeed a green cloth, but the colour was not pure,
and ran into a yellowish tinge. The lord of the world
found it intolerable to put such a colour on his body,
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 229
and nothing was left but to turn his old uniform, and
wear it in that way.
" What do you say to that ? Is it not a perfectly
tragic trait ? Is it not touching to see the master of
kings so reduced at last that he must wear a turned
uniform ? And yet, when we reflect that such an end
befell a man who had trampled under foot the life and
happiness of millions, his fate appears after all very mild.
Fate is here a Nemesis, who, in consideration of the
hero's greatness, cannot avoid being a little generous.
Napoleon affords us an example of the danger of
elevating oneself to the Absolute, and sacrificing every-
thing to the carrying out of an idea."
We said a good deal more in reference to this sub-
ject, and I then went to the theatre to see the " Star
of Seville."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, February 10, 1830.
To-day, after dinner, I was for a moment with
Goethe. He rejoiced at the approaching spring, and
the increasing length of the days. We then spoke of
the theory of colours. He appeared to doubt the pos-
sibility of opening a path for his simple theory. " The
errors of my opponents," said he, " have been too
generally spread during a century for me to hope to
find any companions on my solitary way. I shall
remain alone ! I often compare myself to a ship-
wrecked man, who has seized upon a plank which
is only sufficient to bear one person. This one is
saved, whilst all the rest are miserably drowned.
Sunday, February 14, 18 30.
To-day, on my way to Goethe, who had invited me
to dinner, I heard of the Grand-Duchess Dowager's
2$0 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
death, which had just happened. " What effect will
this news have on Goethe at his advanced age ? " was
my first thought, and I entered the house with some
apprehension. The servants said his daughter-in-law
was gone to him to tell him the sad news.
" For more than fifty years," thought I, " he was
attached to this princess, and blessed with her especial
favour and friendship ; her death must deeply move him. w
With such feelings I entered his room, but was not
a little surprised to find him in his usual cheerfulness
and vigour, taking his soup with his daughter-in-law
and grandchildren, as if nothing had happened.
We went on talking cheerfully of indifferent things.
Presently all the bells began to toll 5 Frau von Goethe
looked at me, and we talked louder, that the tone of
the death-bells might not shock him ; for we thought
he felt like us. However, he did not feel like us ; his
mind was in a wholly different position. He sat be-
fore us, like a being of a higher order, inaccessible to
earthly woes.
Hofrath Vogel was announced. He sat down, and
told us all the circumstances of the last hours of the noble
departed ; to which Goethe listened with the same per-
fect calmness and composure. Vogel went away, and we
continued our conversation at dinner on other subjects.
We talked a great deal about the " Chaos," and
Goethe praised the cc Reflections on Play," in the last
number, as excellent. When Frau von Goethe retired
with her children, I was left alone with Goethe.
He talked to me of his classic Walpurgis-night, say-
ing he was getting forward in it every day, and effecting
Wonderful things, beyond his expectation.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 2Jt
He then showed me a letter which he had to-day
received from the King of Bavaria, and which I read
with great interest. The King's true and noble tum
of mind was manifest in every line ; and Goethe
seemed much pleased by his remaining so constantly
the same towards him.
Hofrath Soret was now announced, and joined us ; he
came with a message of condolence from her Imperial
Highness to Goethe, which contributed to make him
even more cheerful. He continued the conversation,
and spoke of the celebrated Ninon de l'Enclos, who,
in her sixteenth year, and in all her beauty, lay apparently
on her deathbed, and with the most perfect composure
comforted those who stood around it, saying, " What
is it, after all ? I leave mere mortals behind me ! "
However, she lived to the age of ninety ; after having
to her eightieth year made happy or desperate hundreds
of lovers.
Goethe then talked of Gozzi, and his theatre at
Venice, where the actors had merely subjects given
them, and filled up the details impromptu. Gozzi
said there were only six-and-thirty tragic situations»
Schiller thought there were more, but could never suc-
ceed in rinding even so many.
Then many interesting things were said about
Grimm; his life and character, and his distrust of
paper-money.
(Sup.*) Sunday, February 14, 1830.*
This was a day of mourning for Weimar; the
Grand-Duchess Louise died this afternoon, at half-past
* This conversation, recorded by Soret, is the same as the preceding one
recorded by Eckermann, but is given at greater length. — Tram.
232 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETÜE. [183O.
one o'clock. The reigning Grand-Duchess ordered
me to pay visits of condolence, in her name, to Fräu-
lein von Waldner and Goethe,
I went first to Fräulein von Waldner. I found her
in tears and deep affliction, quite abandoned to the feel-
ing of her loss. " I was," said she, " for more than
fifty years in the service of the late Princess. She
herself chose me for her maid of honour. And this
free choice on her side was my pride and my happiness,
I forsook my native land to live in her service. Would
she had now taken me with her, that I should not
have so long to sigh for a reunion ! "
I then went to Goethe. But how very different
was his condition ! He certainly did not feel the loss
less deeply ; but he appeared to be perfectly master of
his own feelings. I found him sitting at dinner with a
good friend, and drinking a bottle of wine. He spoke
with animation, and appeared to be altogether in a very
cheerful mood. " Well," said he, when he saw me,
" come here, take your place. The blow which has
long menaced us has at last fallen, and at least we have
no longer to struggle with cruel uncertainty. We
must now see how we can reconcile ourselves to life
99
again.
" These are your comforters," said I, pointing to
his papers. " Work is an excellent means of reviving
our spirits under trials."
" As long as it is day," returned Goethe, " we can
keep our heads up, and as long as we can produce we
shall not fail."
He then spoke of persons who had attained a great
age, and mentioned the renowned Ninon.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 233
" Even in her ninetieth year/' said he, " she was
young ; but she understood how to maintain her equili-
brium, and did not trouble herself with worldly affairs
more than she ought. Death itself inspired her with
no very great respect. When in her eighteenth * year
she was afflicted with a severe illness, and the by-
standers represented to her the danger she was in, she
said quite calmly — i What would it be after all ? I
should leave only mortals behind me ! ' She lived
seventy years after that, amiable and beloved, and
enjoying all the pleasures of life ; but with this peculiar
equanimity constantly upholding herself above every
consuming passion. Ninon knew what she was about;
there are few who imitate her."
He then handed me a letter from the King of Bavaria,
which he had received to-day, and which probably
contributed not a little to his cheerful humour.
" Read," said he, " and confess that the kindness
which the King continually shows me, and the lively
interest which he takes in the progress of literature and
the higher human development, is calculated to give
me pleasure. And I thank Heaven, as for a par-
ticular favour, that I have received this letter just on
this day."
We then spoke of the theatre, and dramatic poetry.
" Gozzi," said Goethe, " would maintain that there
are only six-and-thirty tragical situations. Schiller
took the greatest pains to find more, but he did not
find even so many as Gozzi."
This led to an article in the " Globe," viz., a criti-
cal exposition of the <c Gustavus Vasa" of Arnault«
* " Sixteenth " in Eckermann's narrative.— Tram,
234 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1830*
The style and manner which the critic adopted, gave
Goethe great pleasure, and received his perfect appro-
bation. The judge has contented himself with men-
tioning all the reminiscences of the author, without
further attacking him or his poetical principles«
" The critic of * Le Temps,' " added Goethe, " has
not been so wise. He presumes to point out to the
poet the way he should go. This is a great fault ; for
one cannot thus make him better. Generally, there is
nothing more foolish than to say to a poet : c You
should have done this in this way — and that in that.
I speak from long experience. One can never make
anything of a poet but what nature has intended him
to be. If you force him to be another, you will
destroy him. Now the gentlemen of the c Globe,' as
I said before, act very wisely. They print a long list
of all the commonplaces which M. Arnault has picked
up from every hole and corner ; and by doing this
they very cleverly point out the rock which the
author has to avoid in future. It is almost impos-
sible, in the present day, to find a situation which is
thoroughly new. It is merely the manner of looking
at it, and the art of treating and representing it, which
can be new, and one must be the more cautious of
every imitation/'
Goethe then related to us how Gozzi managed his
" Teatro del Arte" in Venice, and how much his
improvising troop was liked. " I have," said he,
u seen two actresses of that troop, particularly c La
Brighella ' ; and I have seen several other improvised
pieces of the sort. The effect produced by these
people was extraordinary*"
1 83O. J CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 235
Goethe then spoke of the Neapolitan " Pulcinella."
" One of the chief jokes of this hero of low comedy,"
said he, " consisted in seeming sometimes to forget
his part as an actor. He pretended to have returned
home, talked familiarly with his family, told them about
the piece in which he had acted, and of another in which
he was about to act, — * But, my dear husband,' his
wife would exclaim, c you appear to forget the august
company in whose presence you are.' c E Vero !
E Vero!' returned Pulcinella, recollecting himself;
and then, amidst the applause of the spectators, he
returned to his former part. The theatre of Pulcinella
is in such repute, that no one in good society boasts
of having been there. Ladies, as you may suppose,
never go there at all; it is only frequented by men*
Pulcinella is, in fact, a sort of living newspaper. Every-
thing remarkable that has happened in Naples during
the day may be heard from him in the evening.
However, these local allusions, combined with his low
popular dialect, make it almost impossible for foreigners
to understand him."
Goethe turned the conversation to other remini-
scences of his former days. He spoke of his small
confidence in paper currency, and of the experiences
he had had in this respect. By way of confirmation,
he told us an anecdote of Grimm, about the time of
the French Revolution, when thinking it no longer
safe to remain in Paris, he returned to Germany, and
lived at Gotha.
" We were one day dining at Grimm's," said
Goethe. " I know not now how the conversation
led to it, but Grimm said : • I wager that no monarch
*p*
236 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [183O.
in Europe possesses so costly a pair of ruffles as I do ;
and that no one has paid so high a price as I have.
You may imagine that we loudly expressed incredulous
astonishment, particularly the ladies, and that we were
all very curious to see so wonderful a pair of ruffles.
Grimm rose accordingly, and brought from his press
a pair of lace ruffles, of such beauty, that we all burst
into loud admiration. We endeavoured to set a price
upon them, but still we could not value them more
highly than at about a hundred or two hundred louis
d'or. Grimm laughed and exclaimed : c You are very
far from the mark ; I paid twice a hundred and fifty
thousand francs, and was lucky in laying out my
assignats so well. The next day they were not
worth a groschen.' "
(Sup.*) Monday, February 15, 1830.
I was this morning with Goethe for a moment, to
inquire after his health in the name of the Grand-
Duchess. I found him sad and thoughtful, without
a trace of yesterday's rather violent excitement. He
appeared to-day to feel deeply the chasm which death
had made in a friendly intimacy of fifty years.
" I must work very hard," said he, " to keep
myself up, and to support myself under this sudden
separation. Death is something so strange, that, not-
withstanding all experience, one thinks it impossible
for it to seize a beloved object ; and it always presents
itself as something incredible and unexpected. It is, to
a certain extent, an impossibility which suddenly be-
comes a reality* And this transition from an existence
which we know, to another of which we know nothing,
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 237
is something so violent, that it cannot take place with-
out the greatest shock to the survivors."
Wednesday, February 17, 1830.
We talked of the theatre — of the colour of the
scenes and costumes. The result was as follows : —
Generally, the scenes should have a tone favourable
to every colour of the dresses, like Beuther's scenery,
which has more or less of a brownish tinge, and brings
out the colour of the dresses with perfect freshness.
If, however, the scene-painter is obliged to depart from
so favourable an undecided tone, and to represent a
red or yellow chamber, a white tent or a green garden,
the actors should be clever enough to avoid similar
colours in their dresses. If an actor in a red uniform
and green breeches enters a red room, the upper part
of his body vanishes, and only his legs are seen ;
if, with the same dress, he enters a green garden, his
legs vanish, and the upper part of his body is con-
spicuous. Thus I saw an actor in a white uniform
and dark breeches, the upper part of whose body
completely vanished in a white tent, while the legs
disappeared against a dark background.
" Even," said Goethe, " when the scene-painter is
obliged to have a red or yellow chamber, or a green
garden or wood, these colours should be somewhat
faint and hazy, that every dress in the foreground may
be relieved and produce the proper effect."
We talked about the Iliad, and Goethe called my
attention to the following beautiful motive^ — viz., that
Achilles is put into a state of inaction for some time,
that the other characters may appear and develop
themselves.
238 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [183O.
Of his " Wahlverwandtschaften," he says, that there
is not a touch in it which he had not experienced, and,
at the same time, not a touch just as he had expe-
rienced it. He said the same thing of the Sesenheim
story.*
After dinner we looked through a portfolio of the
Netherland school. A view of a harbour, where on
one side men are taking in fresh water, and on the
other some are playing dice on a barrel, gave occasion
to some fine remarks, as to how the real must be
avoided, not to injure the effect of a work of art,
The principal light falls on the top of the barrel ; the
dice are thrown, as may be seen by the gestures of the
men, but they are not marked on the surface of the
barrel, as they would have intercepted the light, and
thus have marred the effect.
Ruysdael's studies for his Churchyard were then
looked over, and we saw what pains even such a
master had taken.
Sunday, February 21, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. He showed me the air-plant
(Luft-pflanze)y which I looked at with great interest.
I remarked therein an effort to continue its existence
as long as possible, before permitting its successor to
manifest itself.
" I have determined," said Goethe, " to read neither
the 'Temps' nor the c Globe,' for a month to come.
Things are in such a position, that some event of im-
portance must happen within that time ; I will wait till
the news comes to me from without. My classical
* The story of Frederica in " Dichtung und Wahrheit." — Trans.
1830«] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 239
Walpurgis-night will gain from this abstinence ; be-
sides, one gets nothing from jsuch interests — a consi-
deration oftentimes left too much out of mind."
He then showed me a letter, written by Boisseree,
from Munich, which had given him great pleasure, and
which I likewise read with delight. Boisseree spoke
especially of the c< Second Residence in Rome," and
on some points in the last number of " Kunst und
Alterthum" (Art and Antiquity). His judgment
showed equal good will and profundity ; and we found
an opportunity to talk much of the culture and activity
of this valuable man.
Goethe then spoke of a new picture, by Cornelius,
as being very fine in conception and execution ; and
the remark was made, that the real occasion for the
good colouring of a picture lay in the composition.
Afterwards, during a walk, the air-plant came again
into my mind, and I had the thought that a being goes
on continuing its existence, and then collects itself to
reproduce its like. This law of nature reminded me
of the legend in which we conceive God living alone
in the beginning of all things, and then creating the
Son, who is like Himself. So, too, good masters find
nothing more appropriate to do than to form good
scholars, by whom their efforts and principles may be
continued. Even so every work of a poet or artist
must be looked upon as his like ; if that is excellent,
he who made it must also have been excellent. Thus
no good work by another shall ever excite envy in me,
since from its existence I must infer that of an excellent
man worthy to produce it.
240 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
Wednesday, February 24, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. We talked of Homer. I
remarked that the interposition of the gods immediately
borders on the Real.
" That is infinitely delicate and human," said Goethe,
<c and I thank Heaven the times are gone by when the
French called this interposition of the gods machinery.
But really to learn to appreciate merits so vast required
some time, for it demanded a complete regeneration of
their culture."
He said he had given a new touch to the apparition
of Helena, to enhance her beauty, which was sug-
gested by a remark of mine, and did honour to my
perceptions.
After dinner, Goethe showed me a sketch from a
picture by Cornelius — Orpheus, before the throne of
Pluto, supplicating for the release of Eurydice. The
picture seemed to us well considered, and the details
excellent ; yet it did not quite satisfy or yield a genuine
pleasure to the mind. Perhaps, we thought, the
colouring may bring with it greater harmony, or per-
haps the following moment, when Orpheus has con-
quered the heart of Pluto, and Eurydice is restored to
him, would have been more favourable. The situation
would not in that case have been so fraught with
excitement and expectation, but would rather have
given complete satisfaction.
Monday, March 1, 1830.
Dined at Goethe's, with Hofrath Voigt, of Jena.
The conversation turned entirely on subjects of natural
history, in which Hofrath Voigt displayed the most
various and comprehensive knowledge*
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 24t
Goethe mentioned that he had received a letter,
containing this objection to his system, — that the
cotyledons are not leaves, because they have no eyes
behind them. But we satisfied ourselves, by examining
various plants, that the cotyledons have eyes, as well
as all the following leaves.
Voigt says that the aperfu of the " Metamorphosis
of Plants" is one of the most fruitful discoveries
which researches into natural history have given to
modern times.
We spoke of collections of stuffed birds ; and
Goethe told us how an Englishman kept several hun-
dreds of living birds in large cages. Some of these
died, and he had them stuffed. The stuffed birds
pleased him so well, that the thought occurred to him
it would be better to kill them all, and have them
stuffed j and this whim he at once carried into effect.
Voigt mentioned that he was about to translate
Cuvier^s " Natural History," and publish it, with some
additions of his own.
After dinner, when Voigt had gone, Goethe showed
me the manuscript of his u Walpurgis-nacht," and I
was astonished to see to what a bulk it had grown.
Wednesday» Match 3, 1830.
Went to walk with Goethe before dinner. He
spoke favourably of my poem on the King of Bavaria,
observing that Lord Byron had had a favourable influ-
ence upon me, but that I still wanted what is called
convenance y in which Voltaire was so great; and he
recommended me to take him as my model.
At table we talked of Wieland, particularly of his
vol. ix. . R
242 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
" Oberon" ; and Goethe was of opinion that the
foundation was weak, and that the plan had not been
sufficiently thought over before the execution was
begun. It was not well judged, he thought, to let a
spirit procure the hairs and teeth, because the hero is
thus left inactive. But the pregnant, graceful, in-
genious treatment of this great poet, makes the book
so attractive to the reader that he never thinks of the
foundation, but reads on.
We continued talking on various subjects, till at last
we came to the entelecheia.
cc The obstinacy of the individual, and the fact that
man shakes off what does not suit him," said Goethe,
<c is a proof to me that something of the kind exists."
I had for some minutes thought the same thing, and
was about to express it, and hence I was doubly
pleased to hear it uttered by Goethe.
" Leibnitz," he continued, "had similar thoughts
about independent beings, and indeed what we term an
entelecheia, he called a monad."
I determined to read further on the subject in Leib-
nitz.
(Sup.*) Friday, March 5, 1830.
A near relation of Goethe's youthful love, Fräulein
von Türkheim, had spent some time in Weimar. I
expressed to Goethe to-day my regret at her departure.
" She is so young," said I, " and shows a lofty feel-
ing, and a mature mind, such as one seldom finds at
such an age. Besides, her appearance has made a
great impression at Weimar. If she had remained
longer, she might have become dangerous to many."
" I am very sorry," returned Goethe, " that I did
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 243
not see her oftener 5 and that I at first constantly
delayed inviting her, in order that I might converse
with her undisturbed, and retrace in her the beloved
features of her relation."
" The fourth volume of c Wahrheit und Dichtung/"
continued he, <c in which is related the youthful tale of
happiness and woe relating to my love for Lili, has
been finished for some time. I should have written
and published it earlier, if I had not been restrained
by certain delicate considerations — not on my own
account, but on account of my beloved, who was then
living. I should have been proud to proclaim to the
world how much I loved her, and I think that she
would not have blushed to confess that my affection
was returned. But had I the right to publish this
without her consent ? It was always my intention to
beg for it ; but I delayed, until at last it was no longer
necessary.
" Whilst you speak with such interest," continued
Goethe, " of the amiable girl who has just left us, you
awaken in me all my old recollections. I again see
the charming Lili living before me j it is just as if I
again felt the aspiration of her loved presence. She
was, in fact, the first whom I deeply and truly loved.
I may also say that she was the last ; for all the little
affections which I have felt, in the after part of my
life, are, when compared with this first one, only light
and superficial.
" I have never been so near a happiness after my own
heart," continued Goethe, " as during the time of this
love for Lili. The obstacles which separated us were
not really insurmountable, and yet she was lost to me !
R 2
i^^^ap^i
244 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
<c My affection for her had about it something so
delicate, and something so peculiar, that even now, in
the representation of that painfully happy epoch, it has
an influence upon my style. When at some future
time, you read the fourth volume of c Wahrheit und
Dichtung/ you will find that this love is something
very different from the love in novels."
" The same might be said," returned I, " of your
love for Gretchen and Frederica. The description of
both is so new and original, that novelists do not
invent or imagine anything like it. This appears to
proceed from the extreme veracity of the narrator,
who has not endeavoured to cloak his experiences, in
order to make them appear to greater advantage, and
who has avoided every sentimental phrase, where the
simple statement of the events is sufficient.
u Besides, love itself," continued I, u is never alike $
it is always original, and always modifies itself accord-
ing to the character and the personality of those whom
we love."
" You are perfectly right," returned Goethe, " for
not merely we are the love, but also the beloved object
that charms us. And then — what we must not forget
— we have as a powerful third element the Daemonic
(dämonisch) which accompanies every passion, and
which finds its proper element in love. This was
particularly active in my connection with Lili ; it gave
another turn to my whole life, and I do not say too
much when I assert that my coming to Weimar, and
my presence here now, were immediate consequences
of it."
1 83O.J CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 245
(Sap.*) Saturday, March 6, 1830.
Goethe had been readings for some time, the c< Me-
moirs of St. Simon."
" With the death of Louis the Fourteenth," said he
to me some days ago, " I came to a stop. Until then
the dozen volumes interested me to a high degree,
through the contrast of the will of the master and the
aristocratic virtue of the servant. But from the
moment when that monarch takes his departure, and
another personage enters, who is so bad that St. Simon
himself appears to advantage by his side, I felt no more
pleasure in reading ; repugnance followed, and I left
the book where the 4 Tyrant ' left me."
Goethe has also ceased, during the last fortnight, to
read the " Globe" and the " Temps," which he had
read for many months with the greatest ardour. Now,
when the numbers arrive folded up, he lays them aside
unopened. However, he begs his friends to tell him
what is going on in the world. He has been for some
time very productive, and quite buried in the second
part of his " Faust." It is the classical " Walpur-
gis-nacht" which has especially absorbed him for some
weeks, and which is therefore making rapid and strik-
ing progress. In such thoroughly productive epochs
Goethe does not like reading, unless, as something
light and cheerful, it affords him a healthy repose, or
stands in harmony and assists him with the subject he
has immediately in hand. He avoids it, on the con-
trary, when it has so strong and exciting an effect as to
disturb his quiet and calm production, and dissipate and
distract his active interest. The last appears to have
been the case with the. " Globe** and the " Temps."
246 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
" I see," said he, " that important events are about
to take place in Paris ; we are on the eve of a great
explosion. But since I have no influence upon it, I
shall wait for it quietly, without allowing myself to be
unnecessarily excited every day by the interesting pro-
gress of the drama. I now read neither the c Globe'
nor the c Temps,' and my 4 Walpurgis-nacht' pro-
gresses the better for it."
He spoke of the state of the most modern French
literature, which interests him much.
41 What the French," said he, " in their present
literary tendency, consider something new, is in fact
nothing but the reflection of what the German litera-
ture has intended, and has been for fifty years. The
germ of the historical pieces which are now new to
them, is to be found in my * Götz,' written half a
century ago.
" Besides," continued he, " the German authors
have never thought, and have never written with the
view of exerting an influence over the French. I
myself have always had only Germany before my eyes,
and it was only yesterday or the day before that it
occurred to me to turn my glances westward, to see
what our neighbours think of me on the other side of
the Rhine. And even now they have no influence
over my productions. Wieland himself, who imitated
the French forms and manner, always remained a
German at bottom, and would make a bad figure in a
translation."
Sunday, March 7, 1830.
Went to Goethe about twelve, and found him
remarkably fresh and strong. He told me that he had
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 247
been forced to lay aside the classical Walpurgis-night,
to finish the last number.*
" I have shown my wisdom," said he, " in leaving
off when I was in a good vein, and had much to say
that I had already invented. In this way, it is much
easier to resume my subject, than if I had gone on
writing till I came to a stand-still."
I noted down this as good doctrine. We had
intended to take a walk before dinner, but we both
found it so pleasant in the room that the horses were
countermanded.
. In the mean while, Frederic, the servant, had unpacked
a large chest, which had arrived from Paris. It was a
present from the sculptor David, of bas-relief portraits
in plaster of fifty-seven celebrated persons. Frederic
brought in the casts in the different drawers, and we
were much amused in looking at all the persons of dis-
tinction. I was particularly curious about Merimee ;
the head appeared as powerful and bold as his talent,
and Goethe remarked that he had something humorous
about him. Victor Hugo, Alfred de Vigny, Emile
Deschamps, appeared with clear, free, cheerful faces.
We were also pleased to see Mademoiselle Gay,
Madame Tastu, and other young female writers. The
powerful head of Fabvier reminded us of the men of
earlier ages ; we felt delight in looking at it again and
again.
Thus we went on from one eminent person to
another, and Goethe could not help saying repeatedly
that through this present from David he possessed a
treasure for which he could not sufficiently thank the
* Of his entire work«.— Tram.
248 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183a
admirable artist. He would not fail to show this col-
lection to travellers, and in that way attain verbal
information about some of those personages who were
unknown to him.
Some books had also been packed up in the chest,
which he had ordered to be taken into the front rooms,
whither we followed. them and sat down to dine. We
were in good spirits, and spoke of works and plans of
works.
" It is not good for man to be alone," said Goethe,
" and especially to work alone. On the contrary, he
needs sympathy and suggestion to do anything well.
I owe to Schiller the c Achilleis,' and many of my
ballads, to which he urged me ; and you may take the
credit to yourself, if I complete the second part of
c Faust. 9 I have often told you so before, but I must
repeat it, that you may know it."
These words rejoiced me, for I felt that there might
be much truth in what he said. After dinner, Goethe
opened one of the packets. This contained the poems
of Emile Deschamps, accompanied by a letter, which
Goethe gave me to read. I saw with delight what
influence was attributed to Goethe over the new life
of French literature, and how the young poets loved
and revered him as their intellectual head. Thus had
Shakspeare. worked upon the youth of Goethe. It
could not be said of Voltaire, that he had had aa
influence of die kind on the young poets of other
countries, that they assembled in his spirit, and recog-
nised him as their lord and master. The letter of
Deschamps was written altogether with a. very amiable
cordiality and freedom.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 249
u You see there the spring-time of a beautiful mind,*
said Goethe.
We found also a leaf, which David had sent with
drawings of Napoleon's hat in various positions.
c< That is something for my son," said Goethe, and
sent him the leaf immediately. It produced its effect,
for young Goethe soon came down full of glee, and
declared that these hats of his hero were the ne plus
ultra of his collection. Five minutes had not passed
before the leaf, under glass and in a frame, was in its
place among other attributes and monuments of the
hero.
(Sup.) Sunday, March 14, 1830.
This evening at Goethe's. He showed me all the
treasures, now put in order, from the chest which he had
received from David, and with the unpacking of which
I had found him occupied some days ago. The plaster
medallions, with the profiles of the principal young
poets of France, he had laid in order side by side upon
tables. On this occasion, he spoke once more of the
extraordinary talent of David, which was as great in
conception as in execution. He also showed me a
number of the newest works, which had been pre-
sented to him, through the medium of David, as gifts
from the most distinguished talents of the romantic
school. I saw works by St. Beuve, Ballanche, Victor
Hugo, Balzac, Alfred de Vigny,. Jules Janin, and
others.
u David," said he, w has prepared happy days for
me, by this present. The young poets have already
occupied me die whole week, and afford me new life
by the fresh impressions which I receive from them. I
w
250 CONVERSATIONS OF GOfcTHE. [183O.
shall make a separate catalogue of these much esteemed
portraits and bopks, and shall give them both a special
place in my collection of works of art and my library."
One could see from Goethe's manner that this
homage from the young poets of France afforded him
the heartiest delight.
He then read something from the " Studies,'' by
Emile Deschamps. He praised the translation of the
" Bride of Corinth," as faithful, and very successful.
" I possess," said he, cc the manuscript of an Italian
translation of this poem, which gives the original,
even to the rhymes."
" The Bride of Corinth" induced Goethe to speak
of the rest of his ballads. " I owe them, in a great
measure, to Schiller," said he, " who impelled me to
them, because he always wanted something new for
his c Hören/ I had already carried them in my head
for many years ; they occupied my mind as pleasant
images, as beautiful dreams, which came and went,
and by playing with which my fancy made me happy.
I unwillingly resolved to bid farewell to these brilliant
visions, which had so long been my solace, by embody-
ing them in poor, inadequate words. When I saw
them on paper, I regarded them with a mixture of sad-
ness. I felt as if I were about to be separated for ever
from a beloved friend.
u At other times," continued Goethe, " it has been
totally different with my poems. They have been
preceded by no impressions or forebodings, but have
come suddenly upon me, and have insisted on being
composed immediately, so that I have felt an instinc-
tive and dreamy impulse to write them down on the
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 251
spot. In such a somnambulistic condition, it has
often happened that have had a sheet of paper lying
before me all on one side, and I have not discovered it
till all has been written, or I have found no room to
write any more. I have possessed many such sheets
written crossways, but they have been lost one after
another, and I regret that I can no longer show any
proofs of such poetic abstraction."
The conversation then returned to the French litera-
ture, and the modern ultra-romantic tendency of some
not unimportant talents. Goethe was of opinion that
this poetic revolution, which was still in its infancy,
would be very favourable to literature, but very preju-
dicial to the individual authors who effect it.
" Extremes are never to be avoided in any revolu-
tion," said he. " In a political one, nothing is gene-
rally desired in the beginning but the abolition of
abuses ; but before people are aware, they are deep in
bloodshed and horrors. Thus the French, in their
present literary revolution, desired nothing at first but
a freer form ; however, they will not stop there, but
will reject the traditional contents together with the
form. They begin to declare the representation of
noble sentiments and deeds as tedious, and attempt to
treat of all sorts of abominations. Instead of the beau-
tiful subjects from Grecian mythology, there are devils,
witches, and vampyres, and the lofty heroes of anti-
quity must give place to jugglers and galley slaves.
This is piquant ! This is effective ! But after the
public has once tasted this highly seasoned food, and
has become accustomed to it, it will always long for
more, and that stronger. A young man of talent,
1$2 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^O*
who would produce an effect and be acknowledged,
and who is great enough to go his own way, must
accommodate himself to the taste of the day— nay,
must seek to outdo his predecessors in the horrible and
frightful. But in this chase after outward means of
effect, all profound study, and all gradual and thorough
development of the talent and the man from within, is
entirely neglected. And this is the greatest injury
which can befall a talent, although literature in general
will gain by this tendency of the moment.
u But," added I, " how can an attempt which
destroys individual talents be favourable to literature in
general ? *
"The extremes and excrescences which I have
described," returned Goethe, " will gradually disap-
pear; but at last this great advantage will remain —
besides a freer form, richer and more diversified sub-
jects will have been attained > and no object of the
broadest world and the most manifold life will be any
longer excluded as unpoetical. I compare the present
literary epoch to a state of violent fever, which is not
in itself good and desirable, but of which improved
health is the happy consequence. That abomination
which now often constitutes the whole subject of a
poetical work, will in future only appear as an useful
expedient ; ay, the pure and the noble, which is now
abandoned for the moment, will soon be resought with
additional ardour."
44 It is surprising to me," remarked I, " that even
Merunee, who is one of your favourites, has entered
upon this ultra-romantic path, through the horrible
subjects of his ( Guzla.'
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 253
c< Merimee," returned Goethe, " has treated these
things very differently from his fellow-authors. These
poems certainly are not deficient in various horrible mo-
tives, such as churchyards, nightly crossways, ghosts
and vampyres $ but the repulsive themes do not touch
the intrinsic merit of the poet. On the contrary, he
treats them from a certain objective distance, and, as it
were, with irony. He goes to work with them like
an artist, to whom it is an amusement to try anything of
the sort. He has, as I have said before, quite renounced
himself, nay, he has even renounced the Frenchman,
and that to such a degree, that at first these poems
of Guzla were deemed real Illyrian popular poems,
and thus little was wanting for the success of the
imposition he had intended.
" Merimee," continued Goethe, " is indeed a
thorough fellow ! Indeed, generally, more power and
genius are required for the objective treatment of a
subject than is supposed. Thus, too, Lord Byron,
notwithstanding his predominant personality, has some-
times had the power of renouncing himself altogether,
as may be seen in some of his dramatic pieces, particu-
larly in his ( Marino Faliero.' In this piece one quite
forgets that Lord Byron, or even an Englishman,
wrote it. We live entirely in Venice, and entirely in
the time in which the action takes place. The per-
sonages speak quite from themselves, and from their
own condition, without having any of the subjective
feelings, thoughts, and opinions of the poet. That is
as it should be. Of our young French romantic
writers of the exaggerating sort, one cannot say as
much. What I have read of them — poems, novels,
254 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
dramatic works — have all borne the personal colouring
of the author, and none of them ever make me forget
that a Parisian — that a Frenchman — wrote them.
Even in the treatment of foreign subjects one still
remains in France and Paris, quite absorbed in all the
wishes, necessities, conflicts, and fermentations of the
present day."
" Beranger also," I threw in experimentally, " has
only expressed the situation of the great metropolis, and
his own interior."
" That is a man," said Goethe, " whose power of
representation and whose interior are worth some-
thing. In him is all the substance of an important
personality. Beranger is a nature most happily en-
dowed, firmly grounded in himself, purely developed
from himself, and quite in harmony with himself. He
has never asked — what would suit the times ? what pro-
duces an effect ? what pleases ? what are others doing ?
— in order that he might do the like. He has always
worked only from the core of his own nature, without
troubling himself as to what the public, or what this
or that party expects. He has certainly, at different
critical epochs, been influenced by the mood, wishes,
and necessities of the people ; but that has only con-
firmed him in himself, by proving to him that his own
nature is in harmony with that of the people ; and
has never seduced him into expressing anything but
what already lay in his heart."
" You know that I am, upon the whole, no friend
to what is called political poems, but such as Beranger
has composed I can tolerate. With him there is
nothing snatched out of the air, nothing of merely
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 255
imagined or imaginary interest ; he never shoots at ran-
dom; but, on the contrary, has always the most
decided, the most important subjects. His affectionate
admiration of Napoleon, and his reminiscences of the
great warlike deeds which were performed under him,
and that at a time when these recollections were a
consolation to the somewhat oppressed French ; then
his hatred of the domination of priests, and of the
darkness which threatened to return with the Jesuits :
these are things to which one cannot refuse hearty
sympathy. And how masterly is his treatment on
all occasions ! How he turns about and rounds off
every subject in his own mind before he expresses it !
And then, when all is matured, what wit, spirit,
irony, and persiflage, and what heartiness, naivete, and
grace, are unfolded at every step ! His songs have
every year made millions of joyous men ; they always
flow glibly from the tongue, even with the working-
classes, whilst they are so far elevated above the level
of the commonplace, that the populace, in converse
with these pleasant spirits, becomes accustomed and
compelled to think itself better and nobler. What
more would you have ? and, altogether, what higher
praise could be given to a poet ? "
" He is excellent, unquestionably ! " returned I.
<c You know how I have loved him for years, and can
imagine how it gratifies me to hear you speak of him
thus. But if I must say which of his songs I prefer,
his amatory poems please me more than his political,
in which the particular references and allusions are not
always clear to me."
That happens to be your case," returned Goethe s
256 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
" the political poems were not written for you : but
ask the French, and they will tell you what is good
in them. Besides, a political poem, under the most
fortunate circumstances, is to be looked upon only as
the organ of a single nation, and in most cases only as
the organ of a single party; but it is seized with
enthusiasm by this nation and this party when it is
good. Again, a political poem should always be looked
upon as the mere result of a certain state of the times ;
which passes by, and with respect to succeeding times
takes from the poem the value which it derived from
the subject. As for Beranger, his was no hard task.
Paris is France. All the important interests of his
great country are concentrated in the capital, and there
have their proper life and their proper echo. Besides,
in most of his political songs he is by no means to be
regarded as the mere organ of a single party ; on the
contrary, the things against which he writes are for the
most part of so universal and national an interest,
that the poet is almost always heard as a great voice of
the people. With us, in Germany, such a thing is
not possible. We have no city, nay we have no
country, of which we could decidedly say — here is
Germany ! If we inquire in Vienna, the answer is —
this is Austria ! and if in Berlin, the answer is — this is
Prussia ! Only sixteen years ago, when we tried to
get rid of the French, was Germany everywhere«
Then a political poet could have had an universal
effect ; but there was no need of one ! The universal
necessity, and the universal feeling of disgrace, had
seized upon the nation like something daemonic ; the
inspiring fire which the poet might have kindled was
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 257
already burning everywhere of its own accord. Still,
I will not deny that Arndt, Körner, and Rückertj
have had some effect."
" You have been reproached," remarked I, rather
inconsiderately, " for not taking up arms at that
great period, or at least co-operating as a poet."
" Let us leave that point alone, my good friend,"
returned Goethe. u It is an absurd world, which does
not know what it wants, and which one must allow to
have its own way. How could I take up arms with-
out hatred, and how could I hate without youth ? If
such an emergency had befallen me when twenty years
old, I should certainly not have been the last ; but it
found me as one who had already passed the first sixties.
u Besides, we cannot all serve our country in the
same way, but each does his best, according as God
has endowed him. I have toiled hard enough during
half a century. I can say, that in those things which
nature has appointed for my daily work, I have per-
mitted myself no repose or relaxation night or day, but
have always striven, investigated, and done as much,
and that as well, as I could. If every one can say the
same of himself, it will prove well with all."
u The feet is," said I, by way of conciliation, <c that
you should not be vexed at that reproach, but should
rather feel flattered at it. For what does it show, but
that the opinion of the world concerning you is so
great, that it desires that he who has done more for the
culture of his nation than any other, should at last do
everything ! "
" I will not say what I think," returned Goethe.
" There is more ill-will towards me, hidden beneath
VOL. II. s
258 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
that remark than you are aware of. I feel therein a
new form of the old hatred with which people have
persecuted me, and endeavoured quietly to wound me
for years. I know very well that I am an eyesore to
many ; that they would all willingly get rid of me ; and
that, since they cannot touch my talent, they aim at my
character. Now, it is said, I am proud ; now, egotisti-
cal ; now, full of envy towards young talents 5 now,
immersed in sensuality ; now, without Christianity ;
and now, without love for my native country, and
my own dear Germans. You have now known me
sufficiently for years, and you feel what all that talk is
worth. But if you would learn what I have suffered,
read my c Xenien/ and it will be clear to you, from
my retorts, how people have from time to time sought
to embitter my life.
" A German author is a German martyr ! Yes, my
friend, you will not find it otherwise ! And I myself
can scarcely complain ; none of the others have fared
better — most have fared worse ; and in England and
France it is quite the same as with us. What did
not MoUere suffer ? What Rousseau and Voltaire i
Byron was driven from England by evil tongues; and
would have fled to the end of the world, if an early
death had not delivered him from the Philistines and
their hatred.
"And if it were only the narrow-minded masses
that persecuted noble men ! But no ! one gifted
man and one talent persecutes another ; Platen scan-
dalizes Heine, and Heine Platen, and each seeks to
make the other hateful; while the world is wide
enough for all to live and to let live ; and every one has
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 259
an enemy in his own talent, who gives him quite
enough to do.
" To write military songs, and sit in a room ! That
forsooth was my duty ! To have written them in the
bivouac, when the horses at the enemy's outposts are
heard neighing at night, would have been well enough ;
however, that was not my life and not my business, but
that of Theodore Körner. His war-songs suit him
perfectly. But to me, who am not of a warlike nature,
and who have no warlike sense, war-songs would have
been a mask which would have fitted my race very badly.
44 I have never affected anything in my poetry. I
have never uttered anything which I have not ex-
perienced, and which has not urged me to production*
I have only composed love-songs when I have loved.
How could I write songs of hatred without hating !
And, between ourselves, I did not hate the French,
although I thanked God that we were free from them.
How could I, to whom culture and barbarism are alone
of importance, hate a nation which is among the most
cultivated of the earth, and to which I owe so great a
part of my own cultivation ?
44 Altogether," continued Goethe, cc national hatred
is something peculiar. You will always find it
strongest and most violent where there is the lowest
degree of culture. But there is a degree where it
vanishes altogether, and where one stands to a certain
extent above nations, and feels the weal or woe of a
neighbouring people, as if it had happened to one's own.
This degree of culture was conformable to my nature,
and J had become strengthened in it long before I had
reached my sixtieth year."
s 2
2Ö0 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
(Sap.) Monday, March 15, 1830.
This evening, passed a short hour at Goethe's, He
spoke a great deal of Jena, and of the arrangements
and improvements which he had made in the different
branches of the University. For chemistry, botany,
and mineralogy, which had formerly been treated only
so far as they belonged to pharmacy, he had introduced
especial chairs. Above all, he had done much good
for the museum of natural history and the library. On
this occasion he again related to me, with much self-
satisfaction and good humour, the history of his violent
occupation of a room adjoining the library, of which
the medical faculty had taken possession, and which
they would not give up.
" The library," said he, " was in very bad con-
dition. The situation was damp and close, and by no
means fit to contain its treasures in a proper manner ;
particularly as by the purchase of the Büttner library,
on the part of the Grand-Duke, an addition had been
made of 13,000 volumes, which lay in large heaps
upon the floor, because, as I have said, there was no
room to place them properly. I was really in some
distress on that account. An addition should have
been made to the building, but for this the means
were wanting ; and, besides, this addition could easily
be avoided, since adjoining the library there was a large
room which was standing empty, and which was quite
calculated to supply all our necessities most admirably.
However, this room was not in possession of the
library, but was used by the medical faculty, who some-
times employed it for their conferences. I. therefore
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE/ 20*
applied to these gentlemen, with this very civil request,
— that they would give up this room to me for the
library. To this the gentlemen would not agree.
They were willing, they said, to give it up if I would
have a new room built for their conferences, and that
immediately. I replied that I should be very ready to
have another place prepared for them, but that I could
not promise them a new building immediately. This
answer did not appear to have satisfied the gentlemen ;
for when I sent the next morning for the key, I was
told that it could not be found !
<c There now remained no other course but to enter
as a conqueror. I therefore sent for a bricklayer, and
took him into the library, before the wall of the said
adjoining room. c This wall, my friend,' said I, c must
be very thick, for it separates two different parts of the
dwelling : just try how strong it is.' The bricklayer
went to work, and scarcely had he given five or six
hearty blows, when bricks and mortar fell in, and
one could see, through the opening, some venerable
perukes, with which the room had been decorated.
4 Go on, my friend,* said I ; * I cannot yet see clearly
enough. Do not restrain yourself, but act just as if
you were in your own house.' This friendly encour-
agement so animated the bricklayer, that the opening
was soon large enough to serve perfectly for a door ;
when my library attendants rushed into the room each
with an armful of books, which they threw upon the
ground as a sign of possession.
" Benches, chairs, and desks vanished in a moment ;
and my assistants were so quick and active, that in a
few days all the books were arranged in the most
2Ö2 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
beautiful order along the walls of their repository.
The doctors, who soon afterwards entered their room,
in corpore, through their usual door, were quite con-
founded to find so great and unexpected a change.
They did not know what to say, and retired in silence 5
but they all harboured a secret grudge against me.
Still, when I see them singly, and particularly when I
have any one of them to dine with me, they are quite
charming,- and my very dear friends. When I related
to the Grand-Duke the course of this adventure, which
was certainly achieved with his consent and perfect
approbation, it amused him right royally, and we have
very often laughed at it since."
Goethe was in a very good humour, and happy in
these reminiscences.
u Yes, my friend," continued he, " we had our
share of trouble in doing good. Afterwards, when, on
account of the great dampness in the library, I wished
to take down and remove the whole of the old city-
wall, which was quite useless, I found no better
success. My entreaties, good reasons, and rational
representations, found no hearing, and I was obliged, at
last, here also to go to work as a conqueror. When the
city authorities saw my workmen at work upon their
old wall, they sent a deputation to the Grand-Duke,
who was then at Domburg, with the humble request
that his highness would be pleased, by a word of
command, to check my violent destruction of their
venerable old city-wall. But the Grand-Duke, who
had secretly authorized me to take this step, answered
very wisely, — c I do not intermeddle with Goethe's
affairs. He knows what he has to do, and must act
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 263
as he thinks right. Go to him, and speak to him
yourself, if you have the courage ! *
44 However, no one made his appearance at my
house," continued Goethe laughing; " I went on
pulling down as much of the old wall as was in my
way, and had the happiness of seeing my library dry at
last."
Tuesday, March 16, 1830.
This morning Herr von Goethe paid me a visit, and
informed me that his long contemplated tour to Italy
had been decided on ; that his father had allowed the
necessary money ; and that he wished me to accom-
pany him. We were both highly pleased, and talked a
great deal about our preparations.
When I passed Goethe's house at noon, Goethe
beckoned me at the window, and I hastened up to him.
He was in the front apartments, and seemed very fresh
and cheerful. He began to talk about his son's tour,
saying that he approved of it, thought it very rational,
and was glad that I would accompany him.
44 It will be a good thing for you both," said he,
"and your cultivation in particular will receive no
small advantage."
He then showed me a Christ with twelve Apostles,
and we talked of the poverty of these forms as subjects
for sculpture.
44 One Apostle," said Goethe, 4< is always much
like another, and very few have enough life and action
connected with them to give them character and
significance. I have on this occasion amused myself
with making a cycle of twelve biblical figures, in
which every one is significant and distinct from the
264 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
rest, and therefore every one is a grateful subject for
the artist.
" First comes Adam — the most beautiful of men,
as perfect as can be imagined. He may have his hand
upon a spade, as a symbol that man is called to till the
earth.
" Next Noah, with whom a new creation begins.
He cultivates the vine, and therefore this figure may
have something of the character of the Indian Bacchus.
" Next Moses, as the first lawgiver.
" Then David, as warrior and king.
" Next to him, Isaiah as prince and prophet.
" Then Daniel, who points to the future Christ.
" Christ.
" Next to him John, who loves the present Christ.
Thus Christ would be placed between two youthful
figures, one of whom, viz. Daniel, should be painted
with a mild expression and long hair, while the other
should be impassioned and with short curly hair. But
who shall come after John ?
" The Captain of Capernaum, as a representation of
the faithful, who expect immediate aid.
u Then the Magdalen, as a symbol of penitent man
urging forgiveness and eager for reformation. In
these two figures the idea of Christianity would be
contained.
" Then Paul may follow, who most vigorously
propagated the new doctrine.
" After him James, who went to the remotest
nations, and represents missionaries.
" Peter would conclude the whole. The artist
should place him near the door, and give him an
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 265
expression as if he examined those who entered, in
order to see whether they were worthy to tread the
sanctuary.
" What do you say to this cycle ? I think it would
be richer than that of the twelve Apostles, where all
look like each other. Moses and the Magdalen I would
represent sitting."
I was very pleased to hear all this, and requested
Goethe to write it down, which he promised to do.
" I will think it over again," he said, " and then give
it with other new things for the thirty-ninth volume."
Wednesday, March 17, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. I asked him respecting a
passage in his poems, whether it should be read, —
" As thy priest Horace in his rapture promised," as
it stands in all the older editions, — or, " As thy priest
Propertius," &c, as it stands in the new edition.
" I allowed myself," said Goethe, " to be seduced
by Göttling into this last reading. c Priest Propertius'
sounds badly, and therefore I am for the earlier read-
in,«. >>
ing.
" Thus, too," said I, " it stood in the manuscript of
your c Helena,' that Theseus carries her off as a slim
roe of ten years. In consequence of Göttling's sug-
gestions, you have printed — c a slim roe of seven years,'
which is too young both for the beautiful girl herself,
and for the twin-brothers Castor and Pollux, who
rescue her. The whole story lies so completely in the
fabulous ages, that no one can tell how old she really
was i and, besides, mythology altogether is so pliant,
that we may use things just as we find most convenient."
266 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183a
c<
You are right/* said Goethe ; " I also am in
favour of her being ten years old when Theseus carries
her off, and hence I have written afterwards, — c From
her tenth year she has been good for nought/ In the
future edition you may again make the roe of seven
years into one often."
After dinner Goethe showed me two new numbers
by Neureuther, after his ballads, and we admired above
everything the free cheerful mind of this amiable
artist.
(Sup.*) Wednesday, March 17, 1830.
This evening at Goethe's for a couple of hours. By
order of the Grand-Duchess I brought him back
" Gemma von Art," and told him the good opinion I
entertained of this piece.
" I am always glad," returned he, " when anything
is produced which is new in invention, and bears the
stamp of talent." Then, taking the volume between
his hands, and looking at it somewhat askance, he
added, " but I am never quite pleased when I see a
dramatic author make pieces too long to be represented
as they are written. This imperfection takes away
half the pleasure that I should otherwise feel. Only
see what a thick volume this c Gemma von Art* is."
" Schiller," returned I, " has not managed much
better, and yet he is a very great dramatic author."
" He too has certainly committed this fault,"
returned Goethe. " His first pieces particularly,
which he wrote in the fulness of youth, seem as if
they would never end. He had too much on his
heart, and too much to say to be able to control it.
Afterwards, when he became conscious of this fault, he
1830.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 267
took infinite trouble, and endeavoured to overcome it
by work and study ; but he never perfectly succeeded.
It really requires a poetical giant, and is more difficult
than is imagined, to control a subject properly, to
keep it from overpowering one, and to concentrate
one's attention on that alone which is absolutely neces-
sary."
Hofrath Riemer was announced, and entered. I
prepared to depart, as I knew that this was the even-
ing on which Goethe was accustomed to work with
Riemer. But Goethe begged me to remain, which I
did very willingly, and thus became a witness of a
conversation full of recklessness, irony, and Mephis-
tophilistic humour on Goethe's part.*
cc So Sömmering is dead/' began Goethe, " and
scarcely seventy-five wretched years old. What
blockheads men are, that they have not the courage to
last longer than that! There I praise my friend
Bentham, that extremely radical madman ; he keeps
himself well, and yet he is some weeks older than
I am."
" It might be added," returned I, " that he equals
you in one other point, for he still works with all the
activity of youth."
cc That may be," returned Goethe ; " but we are at
opposite ends of the chain : he wishes to pull down,
and I wish to support and build up. To be such a
radical, at his age, is the height of all madness."
" I think," rejoined I, " we should distinguish be-
tween two kinds of radicalism. The one to build up
* Some passages which border on the profane are purposely omitted in
this conversation.— Trans.
. -.«." ^ffW^""^W»«BBBBBBWBa
!268 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. t I ^30*
for the future will first make a clean path by pulling
down everything ; whilst the other is contented to point
out the weak parts and the faults of an administration,
in hopes of attaining good without the aid of violent
measures. If you had been born in England, you
would not certainly have avoided belonging to this last
class."
"What do you take me for?" returned Goethe,
who now adopted the mien and tone of his Mephis-
tophiles. " I forsooth should have searched out abuses,
and detected and published them into the bargain ? I
who in England should have lived upon abuses? If
I had been born in England, I should have been a rich
Duke, or rather a Bishop with 30,000/. a year."
" Very good/' returned I ; " but if, by chance,
you had not drawn the great prize, but a blank ? there
are so many blanks."
" It is not every one, my dear friend," returned
Goethe, " who is made for the great prize. Do you
believe that I should have committed the folly of light-
ing on a blank? I should, above all things, have
taken the part of the Thirty-Nine Articles ; I should
have advocated them on all sides, and in all directions
— particularly the Ninth Article, which would have
been for me an object of special attention and tender o
devotion. I would have played the hypocrite, and
lied so well and so long, both in rhyme and prose, that
my 30,000/. a year should not have escaped me. And
then, having once attained this eminence, I would have
neglected nothing to keep my position. Above all, I
would have done everything to make the night of
ignorance if possible still darker. Oh, how would I
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 269
have tried to cajole the good, silly multitude ; and
how would I have humbled the schoolboy«, so that no
one should have observed, or even have had the
courage to remark that my brilliant position was based
upon the most scandalous abuses/'
" With you," answered I, " people would at least
have had the consolation of thinking that you had
attained such eminence by means of eminent talent.
But in England, the most stupid and incapable people
are often those who are in enjoyment of the highest
worldly prosperity, for which they have to thank not
their own deserts, but patronage, chance — and, above
all, birth."
" It is the same in the end," returned Goethe,
whether one attains brilliant worldly prosperity through
one's own exertions, or through inheritance. The first
possessors were still, in every case, people of genius,
who turned to their own account the ignorance and
weakness of others. The world is so full of simple-
tons and madmen, that one need not seek them in a
madhouse. This reminds me that the late Grand-
Duke, who knew my objection to madhouses, once
endeavoured to take me into one by a sudden stratagem.
However, I smelt the rat in time, and told him that
I felt no necessity to see the madmen who were in
confinement, as I had already seen enough of those
who went about at liberty. * I am very ready/ said I,
1 to follow your Highness anywhere, with the sole
exception of a madhouse.' * * *
" By the way, I have already made a trial in the
religious style. As a boy of sixteen, I wrote a
dithyrambic poem upon the Descent into hell, which
270 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« [i 83O
has been printed but not acknowledged, and which has
but lately fallen into my hands again. You know it,
Riemer ? "
" No, your excellency/' returned Riemer, " I do
not know it. But I recollect that, in the first year
after my arrival, you were seriously ill, and that in a
state of delirium you recited the most beautiful verses
on that subject. These were, doubtless, recollections
of that poem of your early youth."
" That is very probable," said Goethe. " I knew
a case in which an old man of low condition, who lay
at the last gasp, quite unexpectedly recited the most
beautiful Greek sentences. People were perfectly
convinced that the man did not understand a word of
Greek, and there was no end to their astonishment ;
the cunning had already begun to derive advantage
from the credulity of the fools, when it was unfor-
tunately discovered that the old man in his early youth
had been obliged to learn all sorts of Greek sentences
by heart, in the presence of a boy of high family,
whom his example, it was hoped, would incite. He
had learned truly classical Greek quite mechanically,
without understanding it, and had not thought of it
again for fifty years, until, in his last illness, this lum-
ber of words with which he was crammed began to
revive."
Conversation now turned upon romances and plays,
and their moralizing or demoralizing effect upon the
public.
" It must be bad indeed," said Goethe, " if a book
has a more demoralizing effect than life itself, which
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 27 1
daily displays the most scandalous scenes in abundance,
if not before our eyes, at least before our ears. Even
with children, people need by no means be so anxious
about the effect of a bopk or a play. Daily life is, as I
said before, more instructive than the most effective
book."
" But still," remarked I, " with respect to children
people take care not to utter things in their presence
which are considered improper for them to hear."
" That is laudable enough," said Goethe, " and I
do the same myself, but I consider the precaution
quite useless. Children, like dogs, have so sharp and
fine a scent, that they detect and hunt out everything —
the bad before all the rest. They also know well
enough how this or that friend stands with their
parents ; and as they practise no dissimulation what*
ever, they serve as excellent barometers by which to
observe the degree of favour or disfavour at which we
stand with their parents.
Some one had once spoken ill of me in company ;
and, indeed, the circumstance appeared to me of such
importance, that I wished much to discover whence
the blow came. People here were generally well
disposed towards me. I turned my thoughts in every
direction, and could not make out with whom the
odious report had originated. All of a sudden a light
dawned upon me. I one day met, in the street, some
little boys of my acquaintance, who did not greet me
as they had been accustomed. This was enough for
me, and upon this track I very soon discovered that
Lt was their beloved parents who had set their tongues
wagging, at my cost, in so shameful a manner."
272 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
Sunday, March 21, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. He spoke first about his
son's journey, saying, that we pught not to form too
great expectations as to the result.
" People usually come back as they have gone
away," said he ; " indeed, we must take care not to
return with thoughts which do not fit us for after
life. Thus, I brought from Italy the idea of fine
staircases, and have consequently spoiled my house,
making the rooms all smaller than they should have
been. The most important thing is to learn to rule
oneself. If I allowed myself to go on unchecked, I
could easily ruin myself and all about me."
We talked then about ill health, and the reciprocity
of body and mind.
" It is incredible," said Goethe, " how much the
mind can do to sustain the body. I suffer often from a
disordered state of the bowels, but my will, and the
strength of the upper part of my body, keep me up.
The mind must not yield to the body. Thus I work
more easily when the barometer is high than when it is
low : since I know this, I endeavour, when the baro-
meter is low, to counteract the injurious effect by great
exertion, — and my attempt is successful."
" But there are things in poetry which cannot be
forced ; and we must wait for favourable hours to give
us what we cannot obtain by mental determination.
Thus I now take my time with my Walpurgis-night,
that there may be throughout the proper strength and
grace. I have advanced a good way, and hope to have
finished it before your departure.
1
j
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. ' 273
" Wherever there is a point, I have detached it from
the individual objects, and given it a general application,
so that the reader has no want of allusions, but cannot
tell how they are really directed. I have, however, en-
deavoured to mark out everything in distinct outline, in
the antique style, so that there may be nothing vague
or undecided, which might suit the romantic style well
enough.
" The idea of the distinction between classical and
romantic poetry, which is now spread over the whole
world, and occasions so many quarrels and divisions,
came originally from Schiller and myself. I laid down
the maxim of objective treatment in poetry, and would
allow no other ; but Schiller, who worked quite in the
subjective way, deemed his own fashion the right one,
and to defend himself against me, wrote the treatise
upon c Naive and Sentimental Poetry/ He proved to
me that I myself, against my will, was romantic, and
that my < Iphigenia,' through the predominance of sen-
timent, was by no means so classical and so much in
the antique spirit as some people supposed.
"The Schlegels took up this idea, and carried it
further, so that it has now been diffused over the
whole world ; and every one talks about classicism and
romanticism — of which nobody thought fifty years ago."
I turned the conversation again upon the cycle of
the twelve figures, and Goethe made some explanatory
remarks.
" Adam must be represented as I have said, but not
quite naked, as I best conceive him after the Fall ; he
should be clothed with a thin deer-skin ; and, at the
same time, in order to express that he is the father of
vol. 11. T
274 CONVEÄSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
the human race, it would be well to pl^ce by him his
eldest son, a fearless boy, looking boldly about him — a
Kttle Hercules stifling a snake in his hand.
" And I have had another thought about Noah,
which pleases me better than the first. I would not
have him like an Indian Bacchus ; but I would repre-
sent him as a vintager ; this would give the notion of a
sort of redeemer, who, as the first fosterer of the vine,
made man free from the torment of care and afflic-
tion."
I was charmed with the happy thought, and resolved
to note it down.
Goethe then showed me the engraving of Neureu-
ther, for his legend of the horse-shoe.*
" The artist," said I, " has given the Saviour only
eight disciples."
" And even these eight," replied Goethe, " are too
many ; and he has very wisely endeavoured to divide
them into two groups, and thus to avoid the monotoiry
of an unmeaning procession."
Wednesday, March 24, 1 8 30.
The liveliest conversation at table to-day with
Goethe. He told me about a French poem which
had come in manuscript, in the collection of David,
under the title " Le Rire de Mirabeau."
<c The poem is full of spirit and boldness," said
Goethe, " and you must see it. It seems as if Mephis-
tophiles had prepared the ink for the poet. It is great
if he wrote it without having read * Faust/ and no less
great if he had read it."
(Sup.) Monday, March 29, 1830.
This evening for some moments at Goethe's ; he
183O,] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE» 275
appeared very calm and cheerful, and in the mildest
mood. I found him surrounded by his grandson Wolf
and the Countess Caroline Egloffstein, his intimate
friend. Wolf gave his dear grandfather a great deal of
trouble. He climbed about him, and sat now upon
one shoulder, and now upon another. Goethe bore all
with the utmost gentleness, inconvenient as the weight
of this boy of ten years old must have been to him at
his advanced age.
" But, dear Wolf," said the Countess, " do not tor-
ment your good grandfather so terribly ! He must be
quite tired with your weight."
" That does not matter," said Wolf, " we shall soon
go to bed, and then my grandfather will have ' time
enough to recover from his fatigue."
" You see,* rejoined Goethe, " that love is always
somewhat of an impertinent nature."
The conversation turned upon Campe, and his
writings for children.
" I have only met with Campe twice in my life," said
Goethe. " After an interval of forty years, I last saw
him at Carlsbad. I then found him very old, withered,
stiff, and formal. He had, during a long life, written
only for children, not even for great children of twenty
years. He could not endure me. I was an eyesore,
a stumbling-block, and he did all he could to avoid me.
Chance, however, one day brought me to him quite
unexpectedly, and he could not help saying some words
to me. ' I have,' said he, ' great respect for the capa-
bilities of your mind ! You have attained extraordinary
eminence in various departments. But things of that
sort do not affect me, and I cannot set the value upon
t 2
276 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
them which others do/ This rather uncivil candour
by no means offended me, and I said all sorts of
obliging things in return. Besides, I really have a high
opinion of Campe. He has conferred incredible 1>ene-
fits upon children ; he is their delight, and, so to speak,
their gospel. I should like to see him a little corrected,
merely on account of two or three terrible stories
which he has had the indiscretion not only to write,
but also to introduce into his collection for children.
Why should we burden the cheerful, fresh, innocent
fancy of children with such horrid impressions ?
(Sup.), Monday, April 5, 1830.
It is well known that Goethe is no friend to spec*
tacles.
u It may be a mere whim of mine," said he, on
various occasions, " but I cannot overcome it. When-
ever a stranger steps up to me with spectacles on his
nose, a discordant feeling comes over me, which I can-
not master. It annoys me so much, that on the very
threshold it takes away a great part of my benevolence,
and so spoils my thoughts, that an unconstrained natural
development of my own nature is altogether impossible.
It always makes on me the impression of the desob-
ligeant^ as if a stranger would say something rude to
me at the first greeting. I feel this still stronger, since
it has been impressed upon me for years how obnoxious
spectacles are. If a stranger now comes with specta-
cles, I think immediately — c he has not read my latest
poems ! ' and that is of itself a little to his disadvantage ;
or ' he has read them, knows their peculiarity, and sets
them at naught,' and that is still worse. The only
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 277
man with whom spectacles do not annoy me, is Zelter ;
with all others they are horrible. It always seems to
me as if I am to serve strangers as an object for strict
examination, and as if with their armed glances they
would penetrate my most secret thoughts, and spy out
every wrinkle of my old face. But whilst they thus
endeavour to make my acquaintance, they destroy all
fair equality between us, as they prevent me from com-
pensating myself by making theirs. For what do I gain
from a man into whose eyes I cannot look when he
is speaking, and the mirror of whose soul is veiled
to me by a pair of glasses which dazzle me?"
" Some one has remarked," added I, " that wearing
spectacles makes men conceited, because spectacles
raise them to a degree of sensual perfection which is far
above the power of their own nature, but through
which the delusion at last creeps in, that this artificial
eminence is the force of their own nature after all."
" The remark is very good," returned Goethe, " it
appears to have proceeded from a natural philosopher.
However, when examined, it is not tenable. For if
this were actually the case, all blind men would of
necessity be very modest 5 and, on the other hand, all
endowed with excellent eyes would be conceited. But
this is not the case 5 we rather find that all mentally
and bodily endowed men are the most modest, while,
on the other hand, all who have some peculiar mental
defect think a great deal more of themselves. It
appears that bountiful Nature has given to all those
whom she has not enough endowed in higher respects,
imagination and presumption by way of compensation
and complement.
278 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
" Besides, modesty and presumption are moral things
of so spiritual a nature, that they have little to do
with the body. With narrow-minded persons, and
those in a state of mental darkness, we find conceit ;
while with mental clearness and high endowments we
never find it In such cases there is generally a joyful
feeling of strength ; but since this strength is actual,
the feeling is anything else you please, only not con-
ceit."
We still conversed on various other subjects, and came
at last to the " Chaos " — the Weimar journal conducted
by Frau von Goethe — in which not only the German
gentlemen and ladies of the place take part, but also
the young English, French, and other foreigners who
reside here ; so that almost every number presents
a mixture of nearly all the best known European
tongues.
" It was a good thought of my daughter," said Goethe,
"and she should be praised and thanked for having
achieved this highly original journal, and kept the
individual members of our society in such activity that
it has now lasted for nearly a year. It is certainly
only a dilettante pastime, and I know very well that
nothing great and durable will proceed from it ; but
still it is very neat, and, to a certain extent, a mirror
of the intellectual eminence of our present Weimar
society. Then, which is the principal thing, it gives
employment to our young gentlemen arid ladies, who
often do not know what to do with themselves;
through this, too, they have an intellectual centre
which affords them subjects for discussion and conver-
sation, and preserves them from mere empty hollow
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 279
chat. I read every sheet just as it comes from the
press, and can say that, on the whole, I have met
with nothing stupid, but occasionally something very
pretty. What, for instance, could you say against the
elegy, by Frau von Bechtolsheim, upon the death of
the Grand-Duchess Dowager ? Is not the poem very
pretty ? The only thing that could be said against it,
or, indeed, against most that is written by our young
ladies and gentlemen is, that, like trees too full of sap,
which have a number of parasitical shoots, they have
a superabundance of thoughts and feelings which they
cannot control, so that they often do not know how to
restrain themselves, or to leave off in the right place.
This is the case with Frau von Bechtolsheim. In
order to preserve a rhyme, she had added another line,
which was completely detrimental to the poem, and in
some measure spoiled it. I saw this fault in the
manuscript, and was able to strike it out in time.
" One must be an old practitioner," he added,
laughing, " to understand striking out. Schiller was
particularly great in that. I once saw him, on the
occasion of his c Musenalmanach, 9 reduce a pompous
poem of two-and-twenty strophes to seven ; and no
loss resulted from this terrible operation. On the
contrary, those seven strophes contained all the good
and effective thoughts of the two-and-twenty."
(Sup.*) Monday, April 19, 1830.
Goethe gave me an account of a visit, which he had
received to-day, from two Russians. " They were,
upon the whole, very agreeable people," said he;
" but one of them did not appear very amiable,
280 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
inasmuch as he did not utter a single word during his
whole visit. He entered with a silent bow, did not
open his lips during his stay, and after half an hour
took his leave with another silent salutation. He
appeared to have come merely to see me and to observe
me. He did not take his eyes off me, whilst I sat
opposite. That annoyed me, and I therefore began to
rattle away the maddest stuff, just as it came into my
head. I believe I took the United States of North
America as my theme, which I treated with the utmost
levity, saying at random all I knew and all I did not
know. However, this appeared to please my two
foreigners, for they quitted me, as it seemed, not at all
dissatisfied."
Wednesday, April 21, 1830.
To-day I took my leave of Goethe, as I was to set
out with his son for Italy to-morrow morning. We
said a great deal in reference to the journey, and he
especially recommended me to observe well, and now
and then to write to him.
I felt some emotion at leaving Goethe, but was
consoled by his strong healthy appearance, and the
confident hope that I should be happy enough to see
him again.
When I took my departure he gave me an album,
in which he had written these words, —
"to the travellers.
" ' Es geht vorüber eh' ich*s gewahr werde,*
Und verwandelt sich eh* ich's merke.* ** — Job,
" Weimar, 2 ist April, 1830."
* " Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not ; he passeth on also, but I
perceive him not.'*-— yob.— Trans,
.1830.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 28 1
(Sup.*) Thursday, April 22, 1830.
Dined with Goethe. Frau von Goethe was present,
and the conversation was agreeably animated. Still,
little or nothing of it remains in my mind.
During dinner, a foreigner, who was passing through
this town, was announced, with the remark that he
had no time to wait, and must set off the next morn-
ing. Goethe sent word to him that he regretted that
he could not see any one to-day, but that he would
perhaps see him to-morrow at noon. ** I think," said
he, laughing, " that will be enough." But, at the
same time, he promised his daughter that he would
wait after dinner the visit of young Henning, whom
she had introduced, out of consideration for his brown
eyes, which were said to be like those of his mother.
Frankfort, Sunday, April 24, 1830.
At about eleven o'clock, I took a walk round the
city, and through the gardens, towards the Taunus
Mountain, and was delighted with the noble prospect
and vegetation. The day before yesterday, at Weimar,
the trees were only in the bud, but here I find the new
shoots of the chestnuts already a foot long, and those
of the linden trees a quarter of a yard. The grass was
a foot high, and thus at the gate I met some girls
carrying heavy basket-loads.
I went through the gardens to get a free prospect of
the Taunus Mountain ; there was a fresh breeze, the
clouds moved from the south-west, and cast their
shadows upon the mountain as they proceeded to the
north-east. Between the gardens I saw some storks
282 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
alight and rise again, which, taking place in the sunlight
between the passing white clouds and the blue sky,
produced a pretty effect, and completed the character
of the scene. When I returned, I met at the gate the
finest cows, brown, white, speckled, and with sleek
coats.
The air here is pleasant and healthy, and the water has
a sweetish taste. I have never tasted such good beef-
steaks at Hamburg as here, and I have excellent white
bread.
It is fair time, and the bustle, fiddling and piping in
the streets, lasts from morning till late at night. I was
much struck by a Savoyard boy, who turned a hurdy-
gurdy, and led behind him a dog, on which a monkey
was riding. He whistled and sang to us, and for a
long time tried to make us give him something. We
threw him down more than he could have expected,
and I thought he would throw up to us a look of gra-
titude. However, he did nothing of the kind, but
pocketed his money, and immediately looked after
others to give him more.
Frankfort, Sunday, April 25, 1830.
This morning we took a ride about the city, in a
very elegant carriage belonging to our host. The
magnificent buildings, the beautiful stream, the gar-
dens and grounds, and enticing summer-houses, were
refreshing to the senses. However, I soon made the
remark, that it is requisite for the mind to elicit
thoughts from objects, and that without this every-
thing, after all, will prove indifferent and unmeaning.
At dinner, at the table d'hote, I saw many faces, but
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 283
few expressive enough to fix my attention. However,
the head waiter interested me highly, so that my eyes
constantly followed him and all his movements ; and
indeed he was a remarkable being. The guests who
sat at the long table were about two hundred in num-
ber, and it seems almost incredible when I say that
nearly the whole of the attendance was performed by
the head waiter, since he put on and took off all the
dishes, while the other waiters only handed them to
him and received them from him. During all this
proceeding nothing was spilt, no one was incommoded,
but all went off lightly and nimbly, as if by the opera-
tion of a spirit. Thus, thousands of plates and dishes
flew from his hands upon the table, and again from the
table to the hands of the attendants behind him. Quite
absorbed in his vocation the whole man was nothing
but eyes and hands, and he merely opened his closed
lips for short answers and directions. Then he not only
attended to the table, but to the orders for wine and the
like, and so well remembered everything, that when
the meal was over he knew everybody's score, and
took the money. I admired the comprehensive power,
the presence of mind, and the strong memory of this
remarkable young man. At the same time he was
perfectly quiet and self-possessed, and always ready for
a jest and a smart retort, so that a constant smile
played upon his lips. A French captain of the old
guard complained to him, at the end of the meal, that
the ladies retired. He at once gave the evasive answer :
— u Cest pour vous autre s ; nous sommes sans passion."
He spoke French and English perfectly, and I was
told that he was master of three languages besides. I
284 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l8jO.
afterwards entered into conversation with him, and
found reason to admire his rare cultivation in every
respect.
At the performance of <c Don Juan " in the evening,
we found reason to regret Weimar. The voices of
the company were good, and their talents were fair,
but they all played like children of nature who owed
nothing to tuition. They did not enunciate clearly,
and went on as if no public were present. The acting
of some of them gave occasion to the remark that the
ignoble without character is vulgar and intolerable,
while character at once elevates it into the higher
region of art. The public was very loud and bois-
terous, and there was no lack of calls and encores,
Zerlina fared both well and ill, for one-half of the house
hissed, while the other applauded. Party spirit was
thus heightened, and always resulted in an uproar.
(Sup. # ) Wednesday, May 12, 1830.
Before Goethe's window stood a little bronze figure
of Moses ; a copy of the renowned original, by Michael
Angelo. The arms appeared to me too long and too
stout in proportion to the rest of the body, and I
openly expressed this opinion to Goethe*
" But the two heavy tables with the Ten Command-
ments," exclaimed he, sharply, " do you think it was a
trifle to carry them ? And do you believe that Moses,
who had to command and to curb an army of Jews,
could have been contented with mere ordinary arms ? "
Goethe laughed as he said this, so that I could not
find out whether I was really in error, or whether he
was defending the artist by way of a joke.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 285
Milan, May 28, 1830.
I have now been here for three weeks, and it is high
time for me to write down something.
The great Teatro de la Scala, to our regret, was
closed. We went in and saw it filled with scaffolding.
Various repairs are going on, and we are told that an
addition is being made of a tier of boxes. The prin-
cipal singers have taken advantage of this opportunity
to travel. Some they say are in Paris, some in Vienna.
I visited the Marionette theatre (Puppet-show). This
theatre is perhaps, of its kind, the best in the world.
It has a high celebrity, and as soon as you approach
Milan you hear of it.
The Teatro de la Canobiana, with its five tiers of
boxes, is the largest after La Scala, and holds three
thousand persons. I like it very much. I have often
been in it, and have always seen the same opera and
the same ballet. For three weeks they have performed
Rossini's opera " II Conte Ory," and the ballet
iC L* Orfana di Genevra." The scenes painted by San
Quirico, or under his direction, have a most pleasing
effect, and are modest enough to allow themselves to
be outshone by the dresses of the actors. San Quirico,
it is said, has many clever persons in his employ. All
orders are sent to him in the first instance, and he sends
them to others, and gives directions, so that everything
is done in his name, and he himself does but little. It
is said that he gives a handsome yearly salary to several
artists of talent, and pays it even when they are ill
and do nothing throughout the year.
During the performance of the opera I was highly
286 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. l 1 ^ *
pleased not to see the prompter's box, which generally
so unpleasantly conceals the feet of the actor. I was
also pleased with the situation of the conductor« He
stood a little raised in the middle of the orchestra, next
to the stalls, so that he could see and be 6een by his
whole band, giving directions to the right and left, and
having a full view of the stage over their heads. In
Weimar, on the contrary, the conductor is so placed
that he has indeed a full view of the stage, but the
band is behind him, so that he is always obliged to
turn round if he would give directions to any one of
the players. The band itself is very numerous. I
counted sixteen basses, eight of which were placed
at each extremity. The players, who are nearly a
hundred in number, are turned towards the conductor
on both sides, so that they have their backs turned to
the pit-boxes by the proscenium, with one eye towards
the stage and the other towards the pit, and with the
conductor directly in front.
With respect to the voices of the singers, I was
delighted with the purity and strength of the tone, and
the freedom and absence of effort in their enunciation.
I thought of Zelter, and wished he was by my side.
I was pleased above all with the voice of Signora
Corradi-Pantanelli, who played the page. I spoke
with others concerning this excellent singer, and heard
that she was engaged for next winter at La Scala.
The prima donna who played the Countess Adele, was
Signora Albertini, a young debutante. There is in her
voice something very soft and pure, as the light of the
sun. Every one who comes from Germany must be
delighted with her to the highest degree. A young
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 287
basso also distinguished himself. His voice is very
powerful, but somewhat inflexible ; and his acting,
though unconstrained, indicates the infancy of his art.
The choruses went admirably, and kept the greatest
precision with regard to the orchestra. With respect
to the gesticulation of the actors, I observed a certain
quiet moderation, whereas I had anticipated an expres-
sion of the lively Italian temperament. The paint was
a mere tinge of red, such as one likes to see in nature,
and did not at all give the impression of rouged cheeks.
Considering the strength of the orchestra, I found
it remarkable that the players never drowned the
voices of the singers, but that these always were pre-
dominant. I spoke on the subject at the table d'hote^
and heard an intelligent young man give the following
explanation : —
" The German bands," said he, <c are egotistical,
and wish as bands to come out and do something. An
Italian band, on the other hand, is discreet. It knows
well enough that in an opera the singing of the human
voices is the principal matter, and that the orchestral
accompaniment should only be subservient. Hence,
however many violins, clarionets, trumpets, and
basses, are played in an Italian orchestra, the impres-
sion of the whole will always be soft and pleasant ;
while a German band, with a third of the strength,
very soon becomes loud and noisy."
I could not answer words so convincing, and was
glad to find my problem so well solved.
" Still," I remarked, " are not the modern com-
posers also in fault, through making the instrumental
part of their operas too strong ?
288 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
a
Certainly," replied the stranger, " modern com-
posers have fallen into this fault ; but never truly great
masters, like Mozart and Rossini. These, indeed, in
their accompaniments, introduce distinct themes, inde-
pendent of the melody of the vocal part ; but, never-
theless, they have always used such moderation, that
the voice of the singer is always in the ascendant. On
the other hand, while with modern masters there is
real poverty in the accompaniment, they often drown
the singing by their violent instrumentation."
I gave my assent to these remarks of the intelligent
young stranger. The person who sat next me at
table, told me he was a young Livonian Baron, who
had long resided in London and Paris, and had now
been here for five years, studying very hard.
I must mention something else which I observed
in the opera, and which gave me much pleasure. It is
the circumstance that the Italians treat night on the
stage not as actual night, but only symbolically. It
was always unpleasant to me that, in the German
theatres, when it was supposed to be night, a perfect
night set in, so that the expression of the actors, and
often their persons vanished altogether, and nothing
but mere darkness was visible. The Italians manage
more wisely. On their stage night is never actual, but
only an indication. The back of the stage is a little
darkened — that is all — and the actors come so much
into the foreground that they are completely lighted,
and not the least expression escapes us. In painting
the same method should be adopted, and I should be
surprised to find pictures in which the faces were so
darkened by night that their expression could not be
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 289
recognised. I hope I shall never find such a picture
by a good master.
I find the same excellent maxim applied in the
ballet. A nocturnal scene was represented, in which
a girl was attacked by a robber. The stage is only a
little darkened, so that all the movements and the
expression of the face are perfectly visible. At the
shrieks of the girl the assassin escapes, and the
peasants hasten from their cottages with lights. These
are not dim, but of a whitish flame, and it is only by
the contrast of this very great brilliancy that we per-
ceive it was night in the previous scene.
What I had been told in Germany about the hud
Italian public, I have found confirmed ; and, indeed,
the longer the opera is played, the more does the noise
of the public increase. A fortnight ago I saw one of
the first representations of the u Conte Ory." The
singers were received with applause on their entrance ;
the audience, to be sure, talked during the less striking
scenes, but when good * airs were sung all was still,
and general approbation rewarded the singers. The
choruses went excellently, and I admired the precision
with which voices and orchestra always kept together.
But now, when the opera has been given every even-
ing since that time, the public has totally ceased to pay
attention; everybody talks, and the house resounds
with the noise. Scarcely a hand is stirred, and one
can scarcely imagine how the singers can open their
lips on the stage, or how the instrumentalists can play
a note in the orchestra. There is an end to zeal and
precision ; and the foreigner, who likes to hear some-
vol. 11. v
290 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
thing, would be in despair — if despair were at all
possible in so cheerful an assembly.
Milan, May 30, 1830.
I will here record something which I have hitherto
remarked with pleasure, or which has at any rate
interested me in Italy.
On the Simplon, amid the desert of snow and mist,
in the vicinity of a refuge, a boy and his little sister
were journeying up the mountain by the side of our
carriage. Both had on their backs little baskets. filled
with wood, which they had gathered in the lower
mountains, where there is still some vegetation. The
boy gave us some specimens of rock crystal and other
stone, for which we gave him some small coins. The
delight with which he cast stolen glances at his money
as he passed by our carriage, made upon me an
indelible impression. Never before had I seen such a
heavenly expression of felicity. I could not but reflect
that God has placed all sources and capabilities for
happiness in the human heart ; and that, with respect
to happiness, it is perfectly indifferent how and where
one dwells.
(Sup.*) Monday, August 2, 1830.
The news of the Revolution of July, which had
already commenced, reached Weimar to-day, and set
every one in a commotion. I went in the course of
the afternoon to Goethe's. " Now," exclaimed he to
me, as I entered, " what do you think of this great
event ? The volcano has come to an eruption ; every-
thing is in flames, and we have no longer a transaction
with closed doors ! "
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 29I
u
A frightful story," returned I. " But what could
be expected under such notoriously bad circumstances,
and with such a ministry, otherwise than that the
whole would end in the expulsion of the royal family ?"
" We do not appear to understand each other, my
good friend," returned Goethe. " I am not speaking
of those people, but of something quite different. I
am speaking of the contest, so important for science,
between Cuvier and Geoffrey de Saint Hilaire, which
has come to an open rupture in the academy."
This expression of Goethe's was so very unex-
pected that I did not know what to say, and for some
minutes felt my thoughts perfectly at a standstill.
" The matter is of the highest importance," continued
Goethe, " and you can form no conception of what I
felt at the intelligence of the sitting of the 19th of July.
We have now in Geoffrey de Saint Hilaire a powerful
and permanent ally. I see how great must be the
interest of the French scientific world in this affair ;
because, notwithstanding the terrible political commo-
tion, the sitting of the 19th of July was very fully
attended. However, the best of it is, that the synthe-
tic manner of treating nature, introduced by Geoffrey
into France, cannot be kept back any more. The
affair is now become public, through the free discussion
of the academy, and that in the presence of so large an
audience. It is no longer referred to secret com-
mittees, and arranged and got rid of, and smothered
behind closed doors. From the present time, mind
will rule over matter in the physical investigations of
the French. There will be glances of the great
maxims of creation, of the mysterious workshop of
u 2
2g2 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
God ! Besides, what is all intercourse with nature, if,
by the analytical method, we merely occupy ourselves
with individual material parts, and do not feel the
breath of the spirit, which prescribes to every part its
direction, and orders, or sanctions, every deviation, by
means of an inherent law !
" I have exerted myself in this great affair for fifty
years. At first, I was alone, then I found support, and
now at last, to my great joy, I am surpassed by conge-
nial minds. When I sent my first discovery of inter-
mediate bones to Peter Camper, I was, to my infinite
mortification, utterly ignored. With Blumenbach I
fared no better, though, after personal intercourse, he
came over to my side. But then I gained kindred
spirits in Sömmering, Oken, Dalton, Carus, and
other equally excellent men. And now Geoffrey de
Saint Hilaire is decidedly on our side, and with him
all his important scholars and adherents in France.
This occurrence is of incredible value to me ; and I
justly rejoice that I have at last witnessed the universal
victory of a subject to which I have devoted my life,
and which, moreover, is my own par excellence"
(Sup.*) Saturday, August 21, 1830.
I recommended to Goethe a hopeful young man.
He promised to do something for him, but appeared to
have little confidence.
" Whoever," said he, " has, like myself, during a
whole life lost valuable time and money through the
protection of young talents, and those talents which
have at first awakened the highest hopes, but of which
nothing has come in the end, must, by degrees, lose
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 293
all enthusiasm and pleasure in pursuing such a course.
It is now the turn of you younger people to take my
part and play the Maecenas." .
Apropos of this declaration of Goethe's, I compared
the delusive promises of youth with trees which bear
double blossom, but no fruit.
I * was about to proceed with my communication,
but I was interrupted, and wrote nothing more during
my further residence in Italy, though there was not a
day in which I did not receive some important impres-
sion, and make some important observation. It was
not until I had parted from Goethe's son, and had
left the Alps behind me, that I wrote as follows to
Goethe : —
Geneva, Sept. 12, 1830.
* I have so much to tell you, that I do not know
where I shall begin, and where I shall end.
Your excellency has remarked in jest that travelling
on is a very pleasant matter, if there were no coming
back. I find this remark confirmed to my sorrow, as
I feel myself at a sort of crossway, and do not know
which direction to take.
My residence in Italy, short as it was, has not been
— as indeed might be expected — without important
influence upon me. A bountiful nature has been
discovered to me with its wonders, and has asked me
how far I have advanced to comprehend such a lan-
guage. Great works of man, great actions have
excited me, and have made me look to myself to ascer-
tain my own capabilities. Existences of a thousand
* Here, of course, Eckerman speaks.— Trau.
BB^»*^^"^^^^<"^- ' '
294 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1830.
kinds have come into contact with me, and have asked
me how it stands with my own. Thus I find living
within me three great requisites, — namely, to increase
my knowledge ; to improve my condition ; and, above
all, in order to secure these, to do something.
With respect to this last requisite, I am by no
means in doubt as to what is to be done. For a long
time I have had at heart a work, which has occupied
my leisure for some years, and which is as far com-
plete, as a new-built ship, which still lacks its sails and
rigging to be fit for sea.
I mean those conversations on great maxims in all
departments of science and art, as well as on the
various revelations touching higher human interests,
works of mind, and the chief personages of the age,
to which the six years, which I have been happy
enough to pass in your society, have offered such
frequent occasion. These conversations have been
for me a source of infinite culture 5 and, as I have
found the greatest delight in hearing them, and being
instructed by them, I wish to give the same pleasure
to others, by writing them down, and thus preserving
them for the better class of humanity.
Your excellency has occasionally seen some sheets of
these conversations ; you have honoured them with your
approbation, and have frequently encouraged me to pro-
ceed in my undertaking. This I have done at intervals,
as well as my unsettled life at Weimar allowed, so that
now I have abundant materials for about two volumes.
. When I set out for Italy I did not put these impor-
tant manuscripts into my trunk with my other papers,
but, after sealing them up in a separate parcel, confided
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 295
them to the care of our friend Soret, with the request
that, if any mishap befel me on the journey, and I did
not return, he would place them in your hands.
After the visit to Venice, during our second stay
at Milan, I was attacked by a fever, so that I was very
ill for some nights, and lay for a whole week in a very
miserable condition, without the slightest appetite. In
my lonely hours I chiefly thought of the manuscript,
and felt uneasy when I reflected that it was not in a
state sufficiently clear and complete to be used at once.
The fact occurred to me that a great deal was written
only with pencil, that some was obscure and impro-
perly expressed, that much was merely hinted, and
that, in a word, a regular revision and a last hand
would be requisite.
Under these circumstances, and with this feeling, I
had an anxious desire for my papers. The pleasure of
seeing Naples and Rome was gone, and I felt a wish
to return to Germany, that, secluded from everybody,
I might complete the manuscript.
Without mentioning what was working within me,
I spoke to your son about the state of my health. , He
felt the danger of dragging me farther in the sultry
climate, and we agreed that I should in the first place
visit Genoa, and that, if my health did not improve
there, I should be at liberty to return to Germany.
In accordance with this view we had resided for
some time in Genoa, when we received a letter from
you, in which you seemed, though at a distance, to feel
our position, and stated that if I had any inclination to
return, I should be welcome.
We paid all reverence to your hint, and were
296 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183Q.
delighted that, from the other side of the Alps, you
gave your assent to an arrangement Vhich had just
been made between us. I resolved to set off at once,
but your son thought it better that I should remain a
little longer, and set off on the same day as himself.
This I did readily, and it was at five o'clock in the
morning, on Sunday the 25th July, that we gave each
other a farewell embrace in the streets of Genoa.
Two carriages were stationed ; one was to go along
the coast up to Leghorn, the other was to cross the
mountains for Turin, and in this I placed myself with
other passengers. Thus we parted in opposite direc-
tions, both deeply moved, and with the heartiest wishes
for our mutual welfare.
After a three days' journey, in great heat and dust,
through Novi, Alexandria, and Asti, I came to Turin,
where it was necessary for me to rest some days,
looking about me, and to wait a more fitting oppor-
tunity to cross the Alps. This occurred on Monday
the 2nd of August, when we crossed Mount Cenis,
and arrived at Chambery at six o'clock in the evening.
On the afternoon of the 7th, I found opportunity to
proceed to Aix \ and late on the 8th, amid rain and
darkness, I reached Geneva, where I put up at the
sign of the " Crown."
This inn was thronged with Englishmen, who,
having just come from Paris, and having been eye-
witnesses of the extraordinary scenes that had taken
place there, had a great deal to tell. You may
imagine what an effect the first experience of these
world-shaking events had upon me, with what interest
I read the newspapers, which had been suppressed in
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 297
Piedmont, and how eagerly I listened to the narratives
of the new comers who arrived every day, and to the
gossip and disputes of the politicians at the table
d'hote. Everybody was in a state of the greatest
excitement, and an endeavour was made to trace the
consequences which might result to the rest of Europe
from such violent measures. I visited our fair friend,
Sylvester, and Soret's parents and brother ; and as in
such excited times one must have an opinion, I laid it
down in my own mind that the French ministers were
chiefly culpable for reducing the monarch to measures,
by which confidence and respect for the sovereign
were compromised with the people.
It was my intention to write to you in detail imme-
diately on my arrival at Geneva ; but the excitement
and distraction of the first days were so great, that I
could not collect myself to communicate facts in the
form I desired. Then, on the 15th of August, I
received a letter from Genoa, from our friend Sterling,
containing information which troubled me exceed-
ingly, and prevented all communication with Weimar.
Sterling told me in this letter that your son, on the
very day when he had parted from me, had broken his
collar-bone, in consequence of the carriage overturning,
and had been laid up at Spezzia. I wrote at once, by
way of reply, that I was ready to cross the Alps at the
very first hint, and that I should not leave Genoa to
proceed on my way to Germany until I received per-
fectly satisfactory news from Genoa. In expectation
of this, I took a private lodging, and made use of my
stay to improve myself in the French language.
At last, on the 28th of August, a double day of
298 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
rejoicing was prepared for me ; a second letter from
Sterling delighted me with the information that your
son had in a short time quite recovered from his
accident, was thoroughly safe, sound, and in excellent
spirits. Thus all my anxiety on his account was at
once removed, and in the stillness of my heart I cited
the lines, —
" Du danke Gott wenn er dich presst,
Und dank' ihm wenn er dich wieder entlässt.'*
" Give thanks to God when hard he presses,
And thank him, too, when he releases.**
I now seriously set about giving you an account of
myself, and was about to tell you much the same as
what is written in the preceding pages. I was about
to inquire again whether I might not be permitted, in
quiet seclusion, far away from Weimar, to complete
that manuscript, which I have so much at heart, since
I felt that I could not be perfectly free and happy till I
had laid before you the long-cherished work, stitched
and fairly copied, that you might sanction its publica-
tion.
Now, however, I have received letters from Weimar,
in which I see that my speedy return is expected, and
that there is an intention to give me a place. I can
but return thanks for such kindness, though it seems
counter to my present plans, and brings me into a
state of discord with myself.
If I now returned to Weimar, a speedy completion
of my literary plans would be impossible. The old
distractions would return, and in our little city, where
one person is perpetually in contact with another, I
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 299
should again be disturbed by various trivial circum-
stances, without being of decided use to myself or any
one else.
Weimar, I grant, contains much that is good and
excellent, much that I have long loved, and that I love
still. Nevertheless, when I look back upon it, I fancy
that I see, at the city gates, an angel with a fiery sword,
to prevent my entrance, and to drive me back.
I am, to my own knowledge, a strange sort of
being. To certain things I adhere most constantly —
I cleave to my plans for many years, and obstinately
carry them out through a thousand windings and diffi-
culties 3 but in the several collisions of ordinary life no
one is more dependent, wavering, and susceptible of
impressions than myself. These two peculiarities
constitute the varying, and, at the same time, secure
destiny of my life. If I look back upon the path
along which I have travelled, the circumstances
through which I have passed present a motley
variety ; but if I look deeper, I see through all a cer-
tain simple track leading to a higher aspiration, and
that I have even succeeded in ennobling and improving
myself at successive steps of the scale.
Even now it is this very impressionable and pliable
peculiarity of my character which, from time to time,
compels me to rectify my mode of life ; just as a
mariner, whom the caprices of various winds have
turned from his course, always sails again the old
track.
Taking an office is now not compatible with the
literary plans I have so long deferred. Neither is it
any longer my plan to give lessons to young English-
300 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
men. I have learned the language, which is all I
wanted, and at this I am delighted. I do not deny
the advantages I have gained from a long intercourse
with young foreigners, but everything has its end, and
its period of change.
Altogether, oral instruction and influence are quite
out of my way. They belong to a profession for which
I have neither talent nor training. I am totally with-
out the gift of eloquence ; so that, generally speaking,
any living soul who sits opposite to me exercises such
an influence over me, that I forget myself, that I am
absorbed in the peculiarities and interests of another,
and that, on this account, I feel a sense of oppression,
and can rarely attain a free and powerful operation of
my thoughts.
On the other hand, with my paper before me, I feel
quite free and self-possessed. Hence the written de-
velopment of my thoughts is my real delight, and my
real life, so that I regard every day as lost on which I
have not written some pages to my own satisfaction.
It is now an impulse of my whole nature to act from
myself upon a wide circle, to acquire influence in litera-
ture, and, as a furtherance of my good fortune, to gain
some renown.
Literary fame considered by itself is, indeed,
scarcely worth the trouble of earning; I have even
seen that it can be very burthensome and distressing.
Nevertheless, it has this advantage, that it shows the
active aspirant that his operations have found a soil, —
and this is a divine sort of feeling, which elevates, and
gives a degree of thought and power which would not
otherwise be attained.
1830.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 3OI
If, on the other hand, one has confined oneself too
long in a narrow sphere, the mind and character are
injured ; one becomes at last incapable of great things,
and to elevate oneself becomes a difficulty.
If the Grand-Duchess really intends to do some-
thing for me, persons of such high rank can easily find
a form in which to manifest their friendly disposition.
If she will support and patronize my next literary
efforts she will do a good work, the fruits of which
shall not be lost.
Of the prince, I can say that he has a special place
in my heart. I expect much good from his mental
capacity and his character, and shall be glad to place
my little acquirements at his disposal. I shall con-
stantly endeavour to increase in cultivation, and he will
constantly grow older 5 so that while I improve in
giving, he will improve in receiving.
But, above all, I have at heart the completion of
that manuscript, which I mention once more« I should
like to remain for some months in quiet seclusion, with
my betrothed and her relations, in the neighbourhood of
Göttingen, and to devote myself to this task, that free-
ing myself from an old burden, I may prepare myself
for others anew. My life has been for some years at
a stand-still, and I should like it once more to flow
freely. Moreover, my health is delicate and uncer-
tain, I am not sure of remaining long in this world,
and I should like to leave behind me something good,
that would preserve my name for a while in the
memory of mankind.
I can, however, do nothing without you — without
your sanction and your blessing. Your further wishes
302 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. L I ^30-
with respect to myself are unknown to me, nor do I
know the good that is designed for me among those in
high places. With me the case stands as I have
stated, and from my clear explanation you will easily
see, whether reasons important for my happiness ren-
der my speedy return desirable, or whether, with a
heart at ease, I may carry out my own mental plans.
In a few days I shall go from here through Neuf-
chatel, Colmar, and Strasbourg, stopping by the way
to look about me, and shall proceed to Frankfort, if
occasion occurs. Now, I should be happy if I could
receive a few lines from you at Frankfort, and beg of
you to address me there, poste rest ante.
I am glad to relieve my mind by the confession of
its heavy burden, and hope in my next letter to com-
municate something of a lighter nature to your
excellency.
Pray give my compliments to Hofrath Meyer, Ober-
baudirector Coudray, Professor Riemer, Chancellor von
Müller, and whoever is with you, and may be kind
enough to remember me.
As for yourself, I press you to my heart, and, re-
taining feelings of the deepest love and reverence,
remain, wherever I may be, Ever yours,
E.
Genoa, Sept. 14, 1830.
To my great delight I learned, from your last letter
at Geneva, that the gaps and the conclusion of the
"Classical Walpurgis-night" have been happily sur-
mounted. The first three acts, it seems, are quite
done, the " Helen" is connected together, and thus the
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 303
hardest task is accomplished ." The end, as you have
told me, is already complete, and I hope that the fourth
act will likewise be soon conquered, and that thus
something great may be accomplished for the edifica-
tion and exercise of future ages. My expectations are
extraordinary, and every piece of news which shows me
a triumph of the poetical powers will be received by
me with delight.
During my travels in Italy I have had frequent occa-
sion to think of " Faust," and to apply some classical
passages. When in Italy I saw the handsome men,
and the fresh thriving children, I thought of . the
verses : —
" Hier ist das Wohlbehagen erblich," &c.
" On every cheek and lip we trace
Joy, as the patrimonial wealth ;
* Each is immortal in his place,
Each glowing with content and health.
" And thus beneath the sunny days
To manly strength the infant grows,
We look, exclaiming with amaze —
' Children of men, or gods, are those ?* "
5 On the other hand, when I was absorbed in the
sight of the beautiful scenery, and feasted my heart
and my eyes on lakes, mountains, and valleys, some
invisible little devil seemed to be making sport with
me, whispering into my ear : —
" If I had not rattled and shaken
Would the world have been so fair ? "
All power of calm contemplation was then gone,
absurdity began to rule, I felt a sort of revolution in
304 CONVERSATIONS OF OOETHE. [183O.
my soul, and I could not do otherwise than finish
with a laugh.
On these occasions I felt plainly enough that the
poet should be always positive. Men use poets to
express what they cannot express themselves. They
are overcome by a feeling — by a phenomenon ; they
look after words, but find their own stock insufficient,
and then the poet comes to their assistance, and by
satisfying them sets them free.
With this feeling I have often blessed those first
lines, while I have laughingly cursed the others every
day. But who could do without them in the position
for which they are made, and in which they have the
most beautiful influence.
I have not kept a regular journal in Italy ; the
phenomena are too great, too numerous, and too varied
for me to be willing or able to master them in a mo-
ment. Nevertheless, I have kept my eyes and ears
open, and have made many observations. I shall
group my reminiscences together, and treat of them
under separate heads. I have especially made some
good observations relative to the " Theory of Colours,"
which I hope shortly to produce. There is in them
nothing actually new, but still it is pleasant to find new
manifestations of an old law.
At Genoa, Sterling displayed a great interest for the
theory. What he has learned of Newton's theory has
not satisfied him, and hence he has open ears for those
principles of your theory which I am often able to
communicate. If opportunity could be found to send
a copy of the work to Genoa, I may venture to say
that such a present would not be unacceptable to him.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 305
Here in Geneva, I found, three weeks ago, an
ardent disciple in our lady-friend, Sylvestre. In this
instance, I have remarked that the simple is harder to
be apprehended than one supposes, and that it requires
great practice to find constantly the fundamental
principle amid the various details of the phenomena.
The exercise, however, gives great dexterity to the
mind, since nature is very delicate, and one must
always take care not to do her violence by too hasty
an expression.
Generally, however, there is not in Geneva the
trace of any interest in so large a subject. Not only
is the library here without a copy of your " Theory of
Colours," but it is not even known that there is such
a work in the world. This may be the fault more of
the Germans than of the Genevese, but it annoys me
and provokes me to caustic remarks.
Lord Byron, it is well known, remained here for
some time ; and as he did not like society, he passed
his days and nights in the open country, and on the
lake, of which I have more to say in this place, and of
which there is a noble monument in his " Childe
Harold." He also remarked the colour of the Rhone ;
and though he could not divine the cause of it, he
nevertheless showed a susceptible eye. In a note to
the third canto, he says, —
c< The colour of the Rhone at Geneva is blue to a
depth of tint which I have never seen equalled in
water, salt or fresh, except in the Mediterranean and
Archipelago."
The Rhone, as it narrows itself to pass through
Geneva, divides itself into two arms, which are crossed
vox». II. x
3q6 conversations of goethe. [1830.
by four bridges, and on these the colour of the water
may be well observed by all who are coming or going.
Now it is remarkable that the water of one arm is
blue, as was perceived by Byron, while that of the
other is green. The arm in which the water appears
blue flows more rapidly, and has so deep a channel
that no light can penetrate it, and consequently there is
perfect darkness below. The very clear water acts as
a dense medium, and from our well-known laws the
finest blue is produced. The water of the other arm
is not so deep, the light reaches the bottom, so that we
see the pebbles ; and as it is not dark enough to become
blue, but at the same time is not smooth, and the
ground is not sufficiently pure, white, and shining,
to be yellow, the colour remains between the two
jextremes, and appears as green.
If, like Byron, I had a taste for mad pranks, and the
means to play them off, I would make the following
experiment, —
In the green arm of the Rhone, *near the bridge,
•where people pass by thousands every day, I would
fasten a large black board, or something of the kind,
so far below the surface that a pure blue would be
produced ; and, not far from this, a very large piece of
white shining tin, at such a depth that a clouded yellow
would appear in the sunshine. When the people as
.they passed saw the yellow and blue spots in the green
water, they would be teazed by a riddle, which they
would not be able to solve. One thinks of all sorts of
pleasantries when one travels ; but this seems to me to
he good of its kind, inasmuch as there is some sense in
it, and it might be of some use.
tS3°0 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 307
Some time ago I was at a bookseller's, and in the
first duodecimo which I took into my hands, my eye
fell upon a passage, which I translate thus, —
" But tell me ; if we discover a truth, must we
communicate it to others ? If you make it known,
you are persecuted by an infinite number of people
who gain their living from the error you oppose, say-
ing that this error itself is the truth, and that the
greatest error is that which tends to destroy it."
It seemed to me that this passage applied so well to
the manner in which the scientific by profession have
received your u Theory of Colours," that it must
have been written on purpose > and I was so highly
pleased, that I bought the book for the sake of the
passage. It contained the u Paul and Virginia," and
the <c Indian Cottage," by Bernardin de St. Pierre,
and hence I had no reason to regret my bargain. I
read it with delight ; the clear noble sense of the author
was quite refreshing, and I could perceive and appreciate
his refined art, especially in the apt application of well-
known similes.
I have here, too, made my first acquaintance with
Rousseau and Montesquieu, but lest my letter should
itself become a book, I will for the present pass over
these, as well as much else which I should like to
say.
Since I have disburdened my mind of the long letter
öf the day before yesterday, I have felt more free and
cheerful than I have been for years, and I could go on
writing and talking for ever. It will be absolutely
necessary for me to stay, at least for the present, at a
distance from Weimar. I hope that you approve this
x 2
308 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l8jO.
plan, and can already anticipate the time when you
will say that I have done right.
To-morrow, the theatre here will open with the
c< Barber of Seville," which I mean to see ; then I
seriously intend to take my departure. The weather
seems to clear up and be favourable. It has rained
here since your birthday, which opened with storms.
These were passing all day long in this direction, from
Lyons up the Rhone, across the lake, and towards
Lausanne, so that it was thundering constantly. I pay
16 sous a day for a room, which commands a beautiful
prospect of the lake and the mountains. Yesterday
it was raining below, the weather was cold, and the
summits of the Jura appeared, after the passing
shower, for the first time white with snow, which,
however, has disappeared to-day. The promontory of
Mont-Blanc begins already to array itself in permanent
white ; along the shore of the lake, amid the green of
a luxuriant vegetation, some trees are still yellow and
brown ; the nights become cold, and we can see that
autumn is at hand.
My hearty remembrances to Frau von Goethe,
Fräulein Ulrica, and Walter, Wolf, and Alma. I
have a great deal to tell Frau von Goethe about
Sterling, and shall write to-morrow.
I hope to receive a letter from your excellency at
Frankfort, and am happy in the anticipation.
With the best wishes and most constant affection, I
remain,
E.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 309
On the 2 1 st of September I set off from Geneva,
and after remaining a couple of days at Berne, I arrived
on the 27th at Strasburg, where, again, I remain for
some days.
Here, as I passed a hair-dresser's window, I saw a
small bust of Napoleon, which, viewed from the street
against the darkness of the room, exhibited all the
gradations of blue, from a pale milky hue to a deep
violet. I suspected that this bust, seen from the
interior of the room against the light, would exhibit
all the gradations of yellow 5 and I could not resist
the impulse of the moment to rush into the house,
though the owners were unknown to me.
' My first glance was at the bust, which to my great
delight shone upon me with the most brilliant colours
on the active side from the palest yellow to a dark
ruby-red. I asked eagerly whether this bust of the
great hero was not to be disposed of. The master
replied that, from a similar respect for the emperor,
he had lately brought the bust from Paris, but that
since my affection seemed, from my enthusiastic joy,
greatly to exceed his own, the right of possession
belonged to me, and he would readily part with it.
This glass image was of inestimable value in my
eyes, and I could not refrain from looking at the
worthy owner with some astonishment, when for a
few francs he placed it in my hands« I sent it with a
remarkable medal, purchased at Milan, as a little
present to Goethe, who could prize it according to its
merits«
Afterwards, at Frankfort, I received the following
letters : —
3IO CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHr. [iffjÄ
First Letter.
I write to tell you as briefly as possible that both
your letters from Geneva arrived safe, though not
before the 26th of September» I have only to say in
haste, — remain in Frankfort till we have thoroughly
considered how you are to pass next winter»
I enclose a letter for Herr Geheimrath von
Willemer and his lady, which you will be kind enough
to deliver as soon as possible. You will find in them
two friends, who are united with me in the fullest
sense of the word, and will render your abode at
Frankfort useful and agreeable.
So much for the present» Write to me as soon as
you have received this letter.
Yours faithfully,
Goethe*
Weimar, 26th September, 1830.
Second Letter.
I send you the heartiest greetings, my dearest
friend, in my native city, and hope that you will have
passed the few days there in social enjoyments with
my excellent friends. If you wish to go to Nor-
denheim, and to remain there for a short time, I
have nothing to object. If you intend in your quiet
hours to occupy yourself with the manuscript which
is in Soret's hands, I shall be all the better pleased, as
I do not wish it to be soon published, but shall be
glad to go through it with you and correct it. Its
value will be increased if I can attest that it is con-
ceived perfectly in my spirit. More I do not say^ but
1830.3 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« 3II
leave the rest to yourself, and expect to hear farther.
Of your other friends I have not spoken to one since
the receipt of your letter.
Your hearty wellwisher,
J. W. von Goethe.
Weimar, 12th October, 1830.
Third Letter.
The lively impression which you received from the
remarkable bust, and the colours it produced — the
desire to obtain it — the pleasant adventure you
achieved on that account, and the kind thought of
making me a present of it, — all this shows how
thoroughly you are penetrated with the grand primitive
phenomenon which here appears thoroughly revealed.
This idea — this feeling, with all its fruitfulness, will
accompany you through your whole life, and will
manifest itself in various productive ways. Error
belongs to libraries, truth to the human mind, — books
may be increased by books, while the intercourse with
living primitive laws gratifies the mind that can
embrace the simple, disentangle the perplexed, and
enlighten the obscure.
If your Daemon again brings you to Weimar, you
shall see the image standing in a strong clear sun,
where beneath the calm blue of the transparent face
the thick mass of the breast and the epaulettes go
through the ascending and descending scale of every
shade from the strongest ruby-red. As the granite
head of Memnon utters sounds, so does this glass
figure produce a coloured halo« Here we see the
312 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O»
hero victorious even for the theory of colours.
Receive my warmest thanks for this unexpected con-
firmation of a doctrine I have so much at heart.
With your medal, too, you have doubly and trebly
enriched my cabinet. My attention has been called
to a man called Dupre, an excellent sculptor, brass-
founder, and medalist. He it was who modelled and
cast the likeness of Henry IV. on the Pont-Neuf.
Being stimulated by the medal you sent me, I looked
over the rest of my collection, and found some very
excellent ones of the same name, and others probably
by the same hand, so that your gift has afforded me a
pleasant impulse.
As for my "Metamorphosis'* with Soret's transla-
tion, we have only reached the fifth sheet, and I long
doubted whether I should curse or bless this under-
taking, but now I again find myself forced back to the
contemplation of organic nature; I am pleased, and
willingly pursue my task. The maxims which I have
entertained for forty years are still valid, — they serve
to guide one successfully through the whole labyrinth
of the comprehensible to the very limit of the incom-
prehensible, where, after much profit, one may reason-
ably stop. No philosopher of the old or new world
has been able to reach any farther. One can scarcely
venture to say more in writing.
J. W. von Goethe.
(Sap.*) Wednesday, October 13, 1S30.
Goethe showed me some tables in which he had
written many names of plants in the Latin and
German languages, in order to learn them by heart*
ww^mmmmmmmmmm*vmm^m
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 313
He told me that he had a room which had been
completely papered with such tables, and in which,
whilst walking round, he had studied and learned from
the walls. " It grieved me," said he, " that it was
afterwards whitewashed. I had also another room,
upon which were written chronological notes of my
labours during a long series of years, and to which I
always added the latest. This also was unfortunately
whitewashed, which I regret no less, as it might now
be of great service to me."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, October 20, 1830.
For a short hour with Goethe, in order to consult
with him, on the part of the Grand-Duchess, concern-
ing a silver escutcheon, which the Prince intends to
present to the Cross-bow Archers Company in this
town, of which he has become a member.
Our conversation soon turned upon other subjects,
and Goethe begged me to give him my opinion upon
the Saint-Simonians.
" The principal aim of their theory," returned I,
" appears to be, — that each should work for the
happiness of the whole, as a necessary condition of his
own happiness."
" I think," returned Goethe, " that each ought
to begin with himself, and make his own fortune
first, from which the happiness of the whole will
at last unquestionably follow. Altogether, this theory
appears to me perfectly impracticable. It is in opposi-
tion to all nature, all experience, and all the course of
events for thousands of years. If each one only does
his duty as an individual, and if each one works
mm
314 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE- [183O*
rightly in his own vocation, it will be well with the
whole. Never, in my vocation as an author, have I
asked, — what would the multitude have, and how can
I be of service to the whole, but I have always
endeavoured to improve myself and sharpen my own
faculties, to raise the standard of my own personality,
and then to express only that which I had recognised
as good and true. This has certainly, as I will not
deny, worked usefully in a large sphere ; still, it was
not my aim, but the necessary result, which is found in
all the effects of natural powers. If, as an author, I
had made the wishes of the great multitude my aim,
and had endeavoured to satisfy these, I should have
told them- short stories, and made sport with them*
like the late Kotzebue."
" That cannot be contradicted," returned I. " But,
however, there is not merely a happiness which I
enjoy as a single individual, but also one which I
enjoy as a citizen and member of a great community.
If one does not lay down as a principle the attainment
of the greatest possible happiness for a whole people,
from what basis should legislation proceed/'
" If that is what you are driving at," said Goethe,
<c I have nothing to reply. But in such a case, only
a very select few could make use of your principle.
It would be only a receipt for princes and legislators,
although it appears to me that the tendency of laws
should be rather to diminish the amount of evil than to
produce an amount of happiness."
" Both," returned I, " come pretty much to the
same thing. Bad roads, for instance, appear to me a
great evil. But if a prince introduce good roads into
J 83O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 31$
his state down to the poorest hamlet, not only is a
great evil removed, but a great good is gained for his
people. Again, a tardy administration of justice is a
great evil. But if a prince, by establishing a public
civil mode of proceeding, affords to his people speedy
justice, not merely is a great evil removed, but a great
good is conferred."
" In this key," rejoined Goethe, <c I would pipe
quite another song. However, we leave some evils
untouched that something may remain upon which
mankind can further develop their powers. In the
mean while, my doctrine is this, — let the father take
care of his house, the artizan of his customers, and the
clergy of mutual love, and the police will not disturb
our joy."
During my stay at Nordheim, which I did not reach
till the end of October, having stopped some time at
Frankfort and Cassel, every circumstance combined to
make my return to Weimar desirable.
Goethe had not approved of a speedy publication of
my conversations, and hence a successful opening of a
purely literary career was not to be thought of.
Then the sight of her whom I had ardently loved
for many years, and the feeling of her great qualities,
which was every day renewed, excited in me the desire
of a speedy union, and the wish for a secure sub-
sistence.
Under these circumstances I received a message
from Weimar, by order of the Grand-Duchess, and
hailed it with delight, as may be seen by the following
letter to Goethe :—
316 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [183O.
Nordheim, November 6, 1830.
Man appoints, and God disappoints ; and, before we
can turn about, our circumstances and our wishes
have been otherwise than we anticipated.
Some weeks ago I had a certain dread of returning
to Weimar, and now, as matters stand, I shall not
only soon and gladly return, but I shall harbour the
thought, and take up my residence there, and settle for
good.
I received a few days ago a letter from Soret, with
the offer of a fixed salary, on the part of the Grand-
Duchess, if I will return and go on as hitherto
instructing the Prince. Some other good news Soret
will communicate by word of mouth ; and from all
this I gather that I am kindly thought of.
I should like to write an answer in the affirmative
to Soret, but I hear that he is gone to his family at
Geneva, and hence I can only address your excellency
with the request that you will be pleased to commu-
nicate to her imperial highness my resolution to return
soon.
I hope at the same time that this intelligence will
give you some pleasure, since you have so long had at
heart my happiness and peace of mind.
I send you the warmest greetings from all your
friends, and hope shortly to see you once more.
E.
On the afternoon of the 20th November I left
Nordheim, and set off for Göttingen, which I reached
at dusk.
183O.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 317
In the evening, at the table anböte? when the land-
lord heard that I had come from Weimar, and was
on my way back, he calmly told me that the great
poet Goethe had had to undergo a severe misfortune in
his old age, since, according to the papers of the day,
his only son had died of paralysis, in Italy.
I passed a sleepless night. The event which affected
me so nearly was constantly before my eyes. The
following days and nights, which I passed on the road,
and in Mühlhausen and Gotha, were no better. Being
alone in the carriage, under the influence of the gloomy
November days, and in desert fields, where there was
no external object to distract my attention or to cheer
me, I in vain endeavoured to fix my attention upon
other thoughts. While among the people at the inns,
I constantly heard of the mournful event which so
nearly affected myself, as of one of the novelties of the
day. My greatest fear was, that Goethe, at his ad-
vanced years, would not be able to surmount the
violent storm of paternal feelings. And what an im-
pression, I thought, will my own arrival make — when
I departed with his son, and now come back alone.
It will seem as though he has not really lost him till
he sees me.
With these thoughts and feelings, I reached the last
station before Weimar, on Tuesday the 23rd of
November, at six o'clock in the evening. I felt, for
the second time in my life, that human existence has
heavy moments through which one must pass. I
communed in thought with higher beings above me,
when I was struck by the light of the moon, which
came from amid thick clouds, and after shining
318 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183Ö.
brightly for some moments was wrapped in darkness
as before. Whether this was chance, or something
more, I took it as a favourable omen from above, and
thus received unexpected encouragement.
I just greeted the people at my residence, and then
set off at once for Goethe's house. I first went to
Frau von Goethe. I found her already in mourning,
but calm and collected, and we had a great deal to say
to each other»
Thursday, November 25, 1830.
This morning Goethe sent me some books, which
had arrived as presents for me from English and Ger-
man authors.
At noon I went to dine with him. I found him
looking at a portfolio of engravings and drawings,
which had been offered him for sale. He told me
he had had the pleasure that morning of a visit from
the Grand-Duchess, to whom he had mentioned my
return.
Frau von Goethe joined us, and we sat down to
dinner. I was obliged to give an account of my
travels. I spoke of Venice, Milan, Genoa ; and he
seemed . particularly interested about the family of the
English consul there. I then spoke of Geneva ; and
he asked with sympathy after the Soret family, and
Herr von Bonstetten. He wished for a particular
description of the latter, which I gave him as well as I
could.
After dinner, I was pleased that Goethe began to
speak of my " Conversations."
" It must be your first work," said he ; c< and we
1830.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 319
will not let it go till the whole is complete, and in
order."
Still, Goethe appeared to me unusually silent to-day,
and oftentimes lost in thought, which I feared was no
good sign.
Tuesday, November 30, 1830.
Last Friday, we were thrown into no small anxiety.
Goethe was seized with a violent hemorrhage in the
night, and was near death all the day. He lost, count-
ing the vein they opened, six pounds of blood, which
is a great quantity, considering that 'he is eighty years
old. However, the great skill of his physician, Hofrath
Vogel, and his incomparable constitution, have saved
him this time, so that he recovers rapidly, has once
more an excellent appetite, and sleeps again all night.
Nobody is admitted, and he is forbidden to speak;
but his ever active mind canot rest; he is already
thinking of his work. This morning, I received from
him the following note, written in bed, with a lead
pencil : —
cc Have the goodness, my best doctor, to look
once again at the accompanying poems, with which
you are familiar, and to re-arrange the others which are
new, so as to adapt them to their place in the whole.
c Faust* shall presently follow.
" In hope of a happy meeting,
" Goethe.
" Weimar, 30th November, 1830.
On Goethe's complete recovery, which soon fol-
lowed, he devoted his whole attention to the first act
320 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183O.
of " Faust," and to the completion of the fourth
volume of <c Dichtung und Wahrheit."
He wished me to examine his short heretofore un-
published papers, and to look through his journals and
letters, that we might know how to proceed with the
new edition.
Examining my " Conversations" with him was at
present out of the question. Besides, I thought it
wiser, instead of occupying myself with what I bad
already written, to increase my stock with something
new, while opportunity was still vouchsafed me by a
kindly fate.
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE.
1831.
VOL. II.
mffmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmemmmsmmmmmmmmKmm
1831.
Saturday, January I, 183 1.
Of Goethe's letters to various persons, copies of
which have been kept in parcels since the year 1807,
I have during the last weeks carefully gone through
the series of several years. I will in the following
paragraphs set down some general remarks, which may
be used in some future edition.
i.
In the first place, the question has arisen, — whether
it is expedient to give these letters merely in the shape
of extracts.
To this I reply that altogether it has been Goethe's
nature to go to work with some intention even in the
smallest matters, and that this seems to have been
particularly the case with regard to these letters, where
the author has always devoted his whole soul to the
subject, so that not only is every sheet perfectly written
from beginning to end, but there is not a line which
does not reveal a superior nature and thorough culti-
vation.
It is my opinion, therefore, that the letters should
Y 2
324 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. L 1 ^ 1 -
be given entire, especially as the single passages of
importance often receive their true lustre and real signi-
ficance only through what precedes and follows.
Then, if we look closely at the matter, and fancy
these letters laid before a large and varied world, who
would presume to say which passage was important
and worthy of communication, and which was not ?
The grammarian, the biographer, the philosopher, the
moralist, the man of natural science, the artist, the
poet, the academician, the actor, and so on ad infini-
tum y have each of them his own peculiar interest, so
that one will skip a passage which another regards as
highly important, and applies to himself.
Thus, for instance, in the first series belonging to
1807, there is a letter to a friend, whose son is about
to devote himself to a forest-life, and to whom Goethe
prescribes the course which the young man is to adopt.
A young author will probably pass over a letter of this
kind, while a forester will certainly perceive with delight
that the poet has looked at his department as well as
others, and has here also tried to give good counsel.
I repeat, therefore, that I am for giving these letters
just as they are, without mutilation, especially as they
are already distributed entire, and we may be sure that
the persons who have received them will some day
print them as they have been written.
2.
If, however, there are letters which one would
scruple to publish entire, but which contain good
isolated passages, one may copy these passages, and
either assign them to the year to which they belong,
wmmmmi^Bmmmm^sa^*m—^mmmmmBm/mm
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 325
or make of them a special collection, accordingly as it
seems most expedient.
3-
It is possible that a letter may appear of no impor-
tance in the first parcel in which we find it, and that
we may be against its publication. If, however, it is
found that such a letter has consequences in after years,
and may be regarded as the first link of an extended
chain, it will be rendered important by this very
circumstance, and may be classed with those fit for
publication.
The doubt may arise, whether it is more expedient
to arrange the letters according to the persons to whom
they are addressed, or to let them follow according to
years, without any further order.
I am for the latter method, — first, because it will
cause a beautiful and ever refreshing variety ; for, when
another person is addressed, not only is there always
a change in the style, but the subjects themselves are
different, so that the theatre, poetical labours, natural
studies, domestic affairs, communications with friends
and with persons of rank, pass along in ever-varied
succession.
I am also for an arrangement according to years,
and without further order, because the letters of any
one year, through contemporary influences, not only
bear the character of that year, but show the cir-
cumstances and occupations of the writer in every
direction, so that such letters would be perfectly fitted
to complete, with a fresh animated detail, the sum-
«VHRSM^eBPaa^BoaesB
326 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
mary biography of the " Tag-und - Jahres-Hefte,"
already printed.
5-
Letters which other persons have already printed,
because, perhaps, they contain an acknowledgment of
their merits, or some other commendation or pecu-
liarity, should be again introduced in this collection,
partly because they belong to the series, partly be-
cause these persons will be gratified by the proof
afforded to the world that their documents were
genuine.
6.
The question whether a letter of introduction shall
be received into the collection or not, shall be decided
after due consideration of the person recommended. If
he has done nothing, and the letter contains nothing
else of value, it is to be omitted ; if, on the other
hand, he has gained an honourable name in the world,
it is to be inserted.
7-
Letters to persons who are known through Goethe's
Life, such as Lavater, Jung, Behrisch, Kniep, Hackert,
and others, are of themselves interesting, and should
be published, even if they contain nothing of impor-
tance.
8.
We must not be too fastidious in the publication of
these letters, since they give us an idea of Goethe's
broad existence and varied influence in all directions ;
while his deportment towards persons most unlike each
other, and in the most different positions, may be
regarded as highly instructive.
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 327
9-
If several letters treat of the same subject, the best
are to be selected ; and when a certain point appears in
several letters, it should be struck out in some, and left
where it is best expressed.
10.
In the letters of 18 n and 18 12, there are perhaps
twenty places where the autograph of remarkable per-
sons is requested. These and similar passages must
not be suppressed, as they appear highly characteristic
and amiable.
The preceding paragraphs have been occasioned by
a survey of the letters of 1807, 1808, and 1809. Any
general remarks that may occur in the further progress
of the work will be added as a supplement.
E.
Weimar, January 1, 1831.
To-day, after dinner, I discussed this matter with
Goethe, point by point, and he gave his assent to my
suggestions. " In my will," said he, " I will appoint
you editor of these papers, and thus show that we
have perfectly agreed as to the method to be observed."
(Sop.*) Tuesday, January 4, 1831.
I perused, with Goethe, some books of drawings, by
my friend Töpfer, of Geneva, whose talent is equally
great as an author and as a draughtsman; but who,
until now, appears to have liked to express his lively
I
328 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I.
conceptions in visible forms rather than in transient
words. The number which contained the adventures
of Doctor Festus, in light pen-and-ink sketches, gave
quite the impression of a comic novel, and pleased
Goethe highly. " This is mad stuff, indeed ! " ex-
claimed he, from time to time, as he turned over one
leaf after another ; " all sparkles with talent and intel-
ligence. Some pages could not be excelled. If, for
the future, he would choose a less frivolous subject,
and restrict himself a little, he would produce things
beyond all conception."
u He has been compared with Rabelais," remarked
I, " and reproached with having imitated him and
borrowed his ideas."
" People do not know what they would have,"
returned Goethe. " I find nothing of the sort ; on
the contrary, Töpfer appears to me to stand quite upon
his own feet, and to be as thoroughly original as any
talent I have met."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, January 17, 183 1.
I found Coudray with Goethe, examining some
architectural drawings. I had about me a five-franc
piece of 1830, with the likeness of Charles the Tenth,
which I produced. Goethe joked about the pointed
head. "The organ of Veneration appears to have
been very largely developed in him," remarked he.
" Doubtless, from his excessive piety, he did not deem
it necessary to pay his debts ; on the other hand, we
are deeply indebted to him, since, thanks to the freaks
of his genius, Europe will not soon be quiet again."
We spoke about " Rouge et Noir," which Goethe
regarded as Stendhal's best work.
^^sMae^mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmam
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 329
cc Still I cannot deny," added he, cc that some of his
female characters are a little too romantic. Never-
theless, they all give evidence of great observation
and psychological penetration, so that one may will-
ingly pardon the author for some improbability in his
details,"
(Sup.*) Tuesday, January 23, 183 1.
With the Prince at Goethe's. His grandchildren
were amusing themselves with conjuring tricks, in
which Walter is particularly skilful. " I do not
object," said Goethe, "to the boys filling up their
spare hours with these follies. It is, especially in the
presence of a small public, an excellent means of exer-
cise in speaking freely, and acquiring some bodily and
mental activity, of which we Germans have by no
means a superabundance. The slight vanity that is
occasioned is a disadvantage which is certainly over-
balanced by such a gain."
" Besides, the spectators take care enough to damp
such feelings," remarked I, " because they generally
look very sharply at the little juggler's fingers, and are
malicious enough to laugh at his blunders, and to
mortify him by publishing his little secrets."
" It is with them as with actors," added Goethe ;
" who are applauded to-day and hissed to-morrow, by
which means all is kept in the right track."
Wednesday, February 9, 183 1.
Yesterday I continued reading Voss's u Luise "
with the Prince, and made to myself several remarks
on the subject of that book. The great merits of
330 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [183I.
the author in depicting the locality, and the external
circumstances of the persons, delighted me ; still, it
appeared to me that the poem should have had
a more lofty import, — and this remark especially
occurred to me in those passages where the persons
express their sentiments in dialogue. In the " Vicar
of Wakefield" there is also a country pastor with his
family, but the poet had a higher knowledge of the
world, and this was communicated to his personages,
all of whom exhibit greater mental variety. In the
" Luise" all stand on the level of a narrow cultiva-
tion, though there is sufficient to satisfy thoroughly a
certain class of readers. As for the verse, it seems
to me that the hexameter is far too pretentious for
such narrow subjects, and is, moreover, often a
little forced and affected, and that the periods do
not always flow naturally enough to be read with
ease.
To-day, at dinner, I talked over this point with
Goethe. " The earlier editions of the poem," said
he, " are far better in that respect, and I remember
that I read it aloud with pleasure. Afterwards Voss
touched it up a great deal, and, from his technical
crotchets, spoiled the ease and nature of the verse.
Indeed, now-a-days technicalities are everything, and
the critics begin to torment themselves, — whether in a
rhyme an S should be followed by an S, and not an S
by a * double S.' If I were young and bold enough,
I would purposely offend against all these technical
whims; I would employ alliteration, assonance, false
rhyme, and anything else that came into my head, but
I would keep the main point in view, and endeavour
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 33 1
to say such good things that every one would be tempted
to read them and to learn them by heart."
.Friday, February II, 183 1.
To-day, at dinner, Goethe told me that he had begun
the fourth act of " Faust," and thus intended to pro-
ceed, which pleased me highly. He then spoke with
great praise of Carl Schöne, a young philologist of
Leipsic, who had written a work on the costume in
the tragedies of Euripides, and who, notwithstanding
his great learning, had displayed no more of it than
was necessary for his purpose.
" I like to see," said Goethe, " how, with a pro-
ductive sense, he goes to the point at once, while other
modern philologists give themselves far too much
trouble about technicalities, and long and short syl-
lables.
" It is always a sign that a time is unproductive
when it goes so much into technical minutiae ; and
thus also it is a sign that an individual is unproductive
when he occupies himself in a like manner.
" Then there are other faults which act as impedi-
ments. Thus, for instance, in Count Platen there are
nearly all the chief requisites of a good poet ; — imagi-
nation, invention, intellect, and productiveness, he
possesses in a high degree ; he also shows a thoroughly
technical cultivation, and a study and earnestness, to be
found in few others. With him, however, his un-
happy polemical tendency is a hindrance.
" That amid the grandeur of Naples and Rome he
could not forget the miserable trivialities of German
literature, is unpardonable in so eminent a talent.
332 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^3 1.
The ( Romantic CEdipus' shows that, especially
with regard to technicalities, Platen was just the
man to write the best German tragedy; but now,
in this piece, he has used the tragic motives for pur-
poses of parody, how will he write a tragedy in good
earnest ?
" And then (what is not enough kept in mind) these
quarrels occupy the thoughts ; the images of our foes
are like ghosts which intercept all free production, and
cause great disorder in a nature already sufficiently
susceptible.
Lord Byron was ruined by his polemic tendency;
and Platen should, for the honour of German litera-
ture, quit for ever so unprofitable a path."
Saturday, February 12» 183 1.
I have been reading the New Testament, and
thinking of a picture which Goethe lately showed me,
where Christ is walking on the water, and Peter
coming towards him, on the waves, begins to sink,
in a moment of faint-heartedness.
" This," said Goethe, " is one of the most beautiful
legends, and one which I love better than any. It
expresses the noble doctrine that man, through faith
and hearty courage, will come off victor in the most
difficult enterprises, while he may be ruined by the
least paroxysm of doubt."
Sunday, February 13, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. He told me that he was
going on with the fourth act of " Faust," and had
succeeded to his wish in the beginning.
183I. J CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, 333
" I had," said he, " long since the tvbat> as you
know, but was not quite satisfied about the bow;
hence it is the more pleasant that good thoughts have
come to me.
" I will now go on inventing, to supply the whole gap,
from the i Helena ' to the fifth act, which is finished,
and write down a detailed plan, that I may work with
perfect comfort and security on those parts which first
attract me.
" This act acquires quite a peculiar character, so
that, like an independent little world, it does not
touch the rest, and is only connected with the whole
by a slight reference to what precedes and follows."
" It will then," said I, " be perfectly in character
with the rest ; for, in feet, Auerbach's cellar, the
witches' kitchen, the Blocksberg, the imperial diet,
the masquerade, the paper-money, the laboratory, the
classic Walpurgis-night, the Helena, are all of them
little independent worlds, which, each being complete
in itself, do indeed work upon each other, yet come but
little in contact. The great point with the poet is to
express a manifold world, and he uses the story of a
celebrated hero merely as a sort of thread on which he
may string what he pleases. This is the case with
< Gil Bias ' and the < Odyssey.* "
" You are perfectly right," said Goethe ; " and
the only matter of importance in such compositions
is, that the single masses should be clear and signi-
ficant, while the whole always remains incommen-
surable, — and even on that account, like an unsolved
problem, constantly lures mankind to study it again
and again."
334 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
I then spoke of a letter from a young soldier, whom
I and other friends had advised to go into foreign
service, and who now, not being pleased with his
situation abroad, blames all those who advised him."
u Advice is a strange matter," said Goethe, c< and
when one has looked about one in the world long
enough, to see how the most judicious enterprises fail,
and the most absurd often succeed, one becomes
disinclined to give advice to any one. At bottom, too,
there is a confinement with respect to him who asks
advice, and a presumption in him who gives it. A
person should only give advice in matters where he
himself will co-operate. If any one asks me for good
advice, I say I am ready to give it, but only on con-
dition that he will promise me not to take it."
The conversation turned on the New Testament^
and I mentioned that I had been reading again the
passage where Christ walks on the sea, and Peter
meets him.
" When one has not for some time read the Evan-
gelists," said I, " one is always astonished at the moral
grandeur of the figures. We find in the lofty demands
made upon our moral power of will a sort of cate-
gorical imperative."
" Especially," said Goethe, " you find the cate-
gorical imperative of faith, which, indeed, Mahomet
carried still farther."
<c Altogether/' said I, <c the Evangelists, if you look
closely into them, are full of differences and contradic-
tions ; and the books must have gone through strange
revolutions of destiny before they were brought to-
gether in the form in which we have them now."
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 335
" It is like trying to drink out a sea," said Goethe,
" to enter into an historical and critical examination of
them. It is the best way, without farther ado, to
adhere to that which is set down, and to appropriate to
oneself so much as one can use for one's moral
strengthening and culture. However, it is pleasant to
get a clear notion of the localities, and I can recom-
mend to you nothing better than Röhr's admirable
book on Palestine. The late Grand-Duke was so
pleased with this book, that he bought it twice, giving
the first copy to the library, after he had read it, and
keeping the other always by him/'
I wondered that the Grand-Duke should take an
interest in such matters.
" Therein," said Goethe, " he was great. He was
interested in everything of any importance, in what-
soever department it lay. He was always progressive,
and sought to domesticate with himself all the good
inventions and institutions of his time. If anything
failed, he spoke of it no more. I often thought how I
should excuse to him this or that failure j but he
always ignored it in the cheerfulest way, and was
immediately engaged with some new plan. This was
a greatness peculiar to his own nature ; not acquired,
but innate."
We looked, after dinner, at some engravings after
the most modern artists, especially in the landscape
department, and we remarked with pleasure that
nothing false could be detected.
" For ages there has been so much good in the
world," said Goethe, " that one ought not in reason to
wonder when it operates and produces good in its turn.
»»
336 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I.
<c The worst of it is," said I, " that there are so
many false doctrines, and that a young talent does not
know to what saint he should devote himself."
" Of this we have proofs," said Goethe ; " we have
seen whole generations ruined or injured by false
maxims, and have also suffered ourselves. Then there
is the facility now-a-days of universally diffusing every
error by means of printing. Though a critic may
think better after some years, and diffuse among the
public his better convictions, his false doctrine has
operated in the mean while, and will in future, like a
spreading weed, continue to co-operate with what is
good. My only consolation is, that a really great
talent is not to be led astray or spoiled."
We looked further at the engravings. " These are
really good things," said Goethe. " You have before
you the works of very fair talents, who have learned
something, and have acquired no little taste and art.
Still, something is wanting in all these pictures — the
Manly. Take notice of this word, and underscore
it. The pictures lack a certain urgent power, which
in former ages was generally expressed, but in which
the present age is deficient, and that with respect not
only to painting, but to all the other arts. We have a
more weakly race, of which we cannot say whether it
is so by its. origin, or by a more weakly training and
diet."
" We see here," said I, c< how much in art depends
on a great personality,* which indeed was common
* " Personality,** which is used here and elsewhere as an equivalent for
M Personalität," is not a common expression, but its meaning will be
obvious. — Tram,
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 337
enough in earlier ages. When, at Venice, we stand
before the works of Titian and Paul Veronese, we feel
the powerful mind of these men, both in their first
conception of the subject, and in the final execution.
Their great energetic feeling has penetrated the mem-
bers of the whole picture, and this higher power of the
artist's personality expands our own nature, and elevates
us above ourselves, when we contemplate such works.
This manly mind of which you speak is also to be
found especially in the landscapes of Rubens. They,
indeed, consist merely of trees, soil, water, rocks, and
clouds, but his own bold temperament has penetrated
into the forms, and thus while we see familiar nature
we see it penetrated by the power of the artist, and
reproduced according to his views."
" Certainly," said Goethe, u personality is every-
thing in art and poetry 5 nevertheless, there are many
weak personages among the modern critics who do not
admit this, but look upon a great ' personality in a work
of poetry or art merely as a kind of trifling appendage.
" However, to feel and respect a great personality
one must be something oneself. All those who denied
the sublime to Euripides, were either poor wretches
incapable of comprehending such sublimity, or shame-
less charlatans, who, by their presumption, wished to
make more of themselves, and really did make more of
themselves than they were."
Monday, February 14, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. He had been reading the
memoirs of General Rapp, through which the conver-
sation turned upon Napoleon, and the feelings which
vol. 11. z
338 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I.
must necessarily have been experienced by Madame
Letitia at finding herself the mother of so powerful a
family. She had given birth to Napoleon, her second
son, when she was eighteen years old, and her husband
three-and-twenty, so that he had a physical advantage
in the youthful strength of his parents. After him she
bore three sons, all remarkably endowed, clever and
energetic in practical things, and all with a certain
poetical talent. These four sons are followed by three
daughters, and last of all comes Jerome, who seems to
have been the least endowed of all.
Talent is indeed not hereditary, but it requires an apt
physical substratum, and then it is by no means indif-
ferent whether one is the first or the last born, nor
whether one is the issue of strong and young, or weak
and old parents.
" It is remarkable," said I, " that, of all talents,
the musical shows itself earliest ; so that Mozart
in his fifth, Beethoven in his eighth, and Hummel
in his ninth year, astonished all near them by their
performance and compositions."
" The musical talent," said Goethe, " may well
show itself earliest of any ; for music is something
innate and internal, which needs little nourishment
from without, and no experience drawn from life.
Really, however, a phenomenon like that of Mozart
remains an inexplicable prodigy. But how would the
Divinity find every where opportunity to do wonders,
if he did not sometimes try his powers on extraordinary
individuals, at whom we stand astonished, and cannot
understand whence they come f "
S9"9K9£JHe99"9eRSgB99«BaE9
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 339
Tuesday, February 15, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. I told him about the theatre ;
he praised the piece given yesterday — " Henry III.,"
by Dumas — as very excellent, but naturally found that
such a dish would not suit the public.
" I should not," said he, " have ventured to give it,
when I was director ; for I remember well what
trouble we had to smuggle upon the public the ' Con-
stant Prince,'* which has far more general human
interest, is more poetic, and in fact lies much nearer to
us, than ' Henry III.' "
I spoke of the " Grand Cophta," which I had been
lately re-perusing. I talked over the scenes one by
one, and, at last, expressed a wish to see it once on
the stage.
" I am pleased," said Goethe, cc that you like that
piece, and find out what I have worked into it. It
was indeed no little labour to make an entirely real
fact first poetical, and then theatrical. And yet you
will grant that the whole is properly conceived for the
stage. Schiller was, also, very partial to it j and we
gave it once, with brilliant effect, for the higher order
of persons. But it is not for the public in general ;
the crimes of which it treats have about them an
apprehensive character, which produces an uncom-
fortable feeling in the people. Its bold character
places it, indeed, in the sphere of ' Clara Gazul ; ' and
the French poet might really envy me for taking from
him so good a subject. I say so good a subject^ because
it is in truth not merely of moral, but also of great
* « II Principe Constante," by Calderon. — Trans.
Z 2
^K^BB^*mm^—^*~z^^mBsmmsmsmBK*^mm~mm—mm
340 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. \}^Z 1%
historical significance; the fact immediately preceded
the French Revolution, and was, to a certain extent,
its foundation. The Queen, through being implicated
in that unlucky story of the necklace, lost her dignity,
and was no longer respected, so that she lost, in the
eyes of the people, the ground where she was unassail-
able. Hate injures no one ; it is contempt that casts
men down. Kotzebue had been hated long; but
before the student dared to use his dagger upon him,
it was necessary for certain journals to make him con-
temptible."
Thursday, February 17, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. I brought him his " Resi-
dence at Carlsbad," for the year 1807, which I had
finished revising that morning. We spoke of wise pas-
sages, which occur there as hasty remarks of the day.
" People always fancy," said Goethe, laughing,
" that we must become old to become wise ; but, in
truth, as years advance, it is hard to keep ourselves as
wise as we were. Man becomes, indeed, in the
different stages of his life, a different being ; but he
cannot say that he is a better one, and, in certain
matters, he is as likely to be right in his twentieth, as
in his sixtieth year.
" We see the world one way from a plain, another
way from the heights of a promontory, another from
the glacier fields of the primary mountains. We see,
from one of these points, a larger piece of world than
from the other ; but that is all, and we cannot say that
we see more truly from any one than from the rest.
When a writer leaves monuments on the different steps
of his life, it is chiefly important that he should have
mmmmmm
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 34I
an innate foundation and good-will ; that he should, at
each step, have seen and felt clearly, and that, without
any secondary aims, he should have said distinctly and
truly what has passed in his mind. Then will his
writings, if they were right at the step where they
originated, remain always right, however the writer
may develop or alter himself in after times."
I heartily assented to this excellent remark.
u Lately," continued Goethe, " I found a piece of
waste paper which I read. ( Humph,' said I to
myself, ' what is written there is not so bad ; you do
not think otherwise, and would not have expressed
yourself very differently.' But when I looked closely
at the leaf, it was a fragment from my own works.
For, as I am always striving onwards, I forget what
I have written, and soon regard my productions as
something quite foreign."
I asked about " Faust," and what progress he had
made with it.
" That," said Goethe, " will not again let me
loose. I daily think and invent more and more of
it. I have now had the whole manuscript of the
second part stitched together, that it may lie a palpable
mass before me. The place of the yet wanting
fourth act I have filled with white paper; and, un-
doubtedly, what is finished will allure and urge me to
complete what has yet to be done. There is more
than people think in these matters of sense, and we
must aid the spiritual by all manner of devices."
He sent for the stitched " Faust," and I was sur-
prised to see how much he had written j for a good
folio volume was before me.
342 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
" And all," said I, <c has been done in the six years
that I have been here ; and yet, amid so many other
occupations, you could have devoted but little time to
it. We see how much a work grows, even if we
only now and then add something ! "
" Of that one is still more convinced as one grows
older," said Goethe ; " while youth believes all must
be done in a single day. If fortune favour, and I
continue in good health, I hope in the next spring-
months to get a great way on with the fourth act. It
was, as you know, long since invented ; but the
other parts have, in the course of the execution,
grown so much, that I can now use only the out-
line of my first invention, and must fill out this intro-
duced portion so as to make it of a piece with the
rest."
<c A far richer world is displayed," said I, " in this
second part than in the first."
" I should think so," said Goethe. " The first
part is almost entirely subjective ; it proceeded entirely
from a perplexed, impassioned individual, and his semi-
darkness is probably highly pleasing to mankind. But,
in the second part, there is scarcely any thing of the
subjective ; here is seen a higher, broader, clearer,
more passionless world, and he who has not looked
about him and had some experience, will not know
what to make of it."
" There will be found exercise for thought," said
I ; " some learning may also be needful. I am glad
that I have read Schelling's little book on the Cabin,
and that I now know the drift of that famous passage
in the Walpurgis-night."
wmmmmmmmmm
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 343
" I have always found," said Goethe, laughing,
" that it is well to know something."
Friday, February 18, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. We talked of different forms
of government ; and it was remarked what difficulties
an excess of liberalism presents, inasmuch as it calls
forth the demands of individuals, and, from the quan-
tity of wishes, one does not know which to satisfy.
It will be found that one cannot succeed in the long
run with over-great goodness, mildness, and moral
delicacy, while one has beneath a mixed and sometimes
vicious world to manage and hold in respect.
It was also remarked that the art of governing is
a great metier , requiring the whole man, and that it
is therefore not well for a ruler to have too strong
tendencies for other affairs, as, for instance, a predo-
minant inclination for the fine arts; since thus not
only the interest of the Prince, but also the powers
of the State must be withdrawn from more necessary
matters. A predominating love for the fine arts better
suits rich private persons.
Goethe told me that his " Metamorphosis of
Plants," with Soret's translation, was going on well,
and that, in his supplementary labours on these sub-
jects, particularly on the " Spiral," quite unexpected
favourable things had come to his aid from with-
out.
" We have," said he, " as you know, been busy
with this translation for more than a year ; a thousand
hindrances have come in our way ; the enterprise has
often come to an absolute stand-still, and I have often
■E^^
344 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [I&3 1 *
cursed it in silence. But now I can do reverence to
all these hindrances ; for during these delays things
have ripened abroad among other excellent men, so
that they now bring the best grist to my mill, advance
me beyond all conception, and will bring my work to a
conclusion which I could not have imagined a year
ago. The like has often happened to me in life ; and,
in such cases, one is led . to believe in a higher
influence, in something daemonic (dämonisch), which
we adore without trying to explain it further. "
Saturday, February 19, 183 1.
Dined at Goethe's, with Hofrath Vogel. » A pam-
phlet on the island of Heligoland had been sent to
Goethe, which he read with great interest, telling us
what he found most important in it.
After we had talked about this very peculiar locality,
conversation took a medical turn, and Vogel told us,
as the news of the day, how the natural small-pox, in
defiance of all inoculation, had again broken out in
Eisenach, and had carried off many in a short time.
" Nature," said Vogel, u plays us a trick every
now and then ; and we must watch her very closely, if
our theory is to keep pace with her. » Inoculation
was thought so sure and infallible, that a law was made
to enforce it. But now this Eisenach affair, where the
persons who have been inoculated are nevertheless
attacked by the natural small pox, casts a suspicion on
the infallibility of the remedy, and weakens the motive
for observing the law."
" Nevertheless," said Goethe, " I am against any
departure from the strict law for inoculation, since
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 345
these trifling exceptions are nothing in comparison
with the great benefits which it confers/'
" I am of the same opinion," said Vogel, " and
would even maintain that in all cases where the
natural disease is not prevented by the artificial one,
the inoculation has been imperfect. For inoculation
to have a protective power it must be strong enough
to produce fever. Mere irritation of the skin without
fever will not suffice. I have this day proposed in
council that a stronger inoculation for the small pox
shall be incumbent on all the parties throughout the
country who have to perform it."
" I hope that your proposal has been carried," said
Goethe. " Indeed I am always for a rigid adherence
to a law, especially at a time like ours, when out of
weakness and excessive liberality one is always conced-
ing too much."
It was then remarked that we were beginning to be
too gentle and lax with regard to the responsibility of
criminals, and that medical testimony and opinion often
had the effect of making the criminal evade the penalty
he had incurred. On this occasion Vogel praised a young
physician, who had always shown strength of character
in such cases, and who lately, when the court was in
doubt whether a certain infanticide was responsible or
not, had given his testimony that she unquestionably
was so.
Sunday, February 20, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. He told me that he had tested
my observation on the blue shadows in the snow, viz.
that they were produced by the reflection of the blue
sky, and that he acknowledged its correctness. " But
346 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^3 1
both causes may, however, co-operate." said he, " and
the demand [Forderung) excited by the yellowish light
may strengthen the appearance of the blue/' This I
willingly conceded, and rejoiced that Goethe at last
agreed with me.
" I am sorry," said I, ? that I did not on the spot
write down the observations on colour which I -made
at Mont Rosa and Mont Blanc. The chief result,
however, was, that at a distance of from eighteen to
twenty miles, in the brightest noonday sun, the snow
appeared yellow and even reddish, while the dark parts
of the mountains, which were free from snow, stood
out in the most decided blue. This phenomenon did
not surprise me, as I could have predicted that the
semi-transparent mass which intervened would give a
deep yellow tone to the white snow as it reflected the
noonday sun ; but, nevertheless, it pleased me, inas-
much as it fully confuted the erroneous opinion of
some scientific persons, that the air has the property of
giving a blue colour. For if the air had been blue of
itself, the snow, for a space of twenty miles — that is to
say, the distance between me and Mont Rosa — must
have appeared bright blue, or a whitish blue, and not
yellow and a yellowish red."
" This observation," said Goethe, c< is important,
and completely confutes every error."
" In feet," ,said I, " the doctrine of the dense
medium is so simple that one is easily misled into the
belief that it can be communicated to another in a few
days. The difficulty is to apply the law, and to recog-
nise a primitive phenomenon in phenomena that are
conditioned and concealed a thousand different ways."
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 347
" I would compare it to whist," said Goethe, " the
laws and rules of which are very easy to teach, but
which one must have played a long time before one
can become a master. Altogether we learn nothing
from mere hearing, and he who does not take an active
part in certain subjects knows them but half and super-
ficially."
Goethe then told me of the book of a young natural
philosopher, which he could not help praising, on
account of the clearness of his descriptions, while he
pardoned him for his teleological tendency.
" It is natural to man," said Goethe, tc to regard
himself as the final cause of creation, and to consider
all other things merely in relation to himself so far as
they are of use to him. He makes himself master of
the vegetable and animal world, and while he claims
other creatures as a fitting diet, he acknowledges his
God, and praises His goodness in this paternal care.
He takes milk from the cow, honey from the bee,
wool from the sheep ; and while he gives these things a
purpose which is useful to himself, he believes that
they were made on that account. Nay, he cannot
conceive that even the smallest herb was not made for
him, and if he has not yet ascertained its utility, he
believes that he may discover it in future.
" Then, too, as man thinks in general, so does he
always think in particular, and he does not fail to
transfer his ordinary views from life into science, and
to ask the use and purpose of every single part of our
organic being.
" This may do for a time, and he may get on so for
a time in science, but he will soon come to phenomena,
348 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* C 1 ^ 1 *
where this small view will not be sufficient, and where,
if he does not take a higher stand, he will soon be
involved in mere contradictions.
"The utility-teachers say that oxen have horns to
defend themselves ; but I ask, why is the sheep with-
out any — and when it has them, why are they twisted
about the ears so as to answer no purpose at all ?
" If, on the other hand, I say the ox defends himself
with his horns because he has them, it is quite a dif-
ferent matter.
"The question as to the purpose — the question
Wherefore is completely unscientific. But we get on
farther with the question How ? For if I ask how has
the ox horns, I am led to study his organization, and
learn at the same time why the lion has no horns, and
cannot have any.
" Thus, man has in his skull two hollows which
are never filled up. The question wherefore could not
take us far in this case, but the question how informs
me that these hollows are remains of the animal skull,
which are found on a larger scale in inferior organiza-
tion, and are not quite obliterated in man, with all his
eminence.
" The teachers of utility would think that they
lost their God if they did not worship Him who gave
the ox horns to defend itself. But I hope I may be
allowed to worship Him who, in the abundance of His
creation, was great enough, after making a thousand
kinds of plants, to make one more, in which all the rest
should be comprised ; and after a thousand kinds of
animals, a being which comprises them all — man.
" Let people serve Him who gives to the beast his
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 349
fodder, and to man meat and drink as much as he can
enjoy. But I worship Him who has infused into the
world such a power of production, that, when only
the millionth part of it comes out into life, the world
swarms with creatures to such a degree that war,
pestilence, fire, and water cannot prevail against them.
That is my God ! "
Monday, February 21, 183 1.
Goethe praised Scbelling's last discourse, with which
he had calmed the students at Munich.
" It is thoroughly good," said he ; " and we rejoice
once again at the distinguished talent which we have
long known and revered. In this case he had an
excellent subject and a worthy purpose, and his success
has been as great as possible. If the same could be
said of the subject and purpose of his work on the
Cabiri, that would claim praise from us also, since there
also he has displayed in it his rhetorical talent and art."
Schelling's " Cabiri" brought the conversation to the
classic Walpurgis-night, and the difference between
this and the scenes on the Brocken in the first part.
" The old Walpurgis-night," said Goethe, " is mon-
archical, since the devil is there respected throughout
as a decided chief. But the classic Walpurgis-night is
thoroughly republican ; since all stand on a plain near
one another, so that each is as prominent as his asso-
ciates, and nobody is subordinate or troubled about the
rest."
" Moreover," said I, " in the classic assembly all
are sharply outlined individualities, while, on the Ger-
man Blocksberg, each individuality is lost in the general
witch-mass."
350 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
" Therefore," said Goethe, u Mephistophiles knows
what is meant when the Homunculus speaks to him of
Thessalian witches. A connoisseur of antiquity will
have something suggested by these words (Thessalian
witches), while to the unlearned it remains a mere
name."
" Antiquity," said I, " must be very living to you,
else you could not make all these figures step so freshly
into life, and treat them with such freedom as you
have."
" Without a life-long occupation with plastic art,"
said Goethe, " it would not have been possible to me.
The difficulty was in observing due moderation amid
such plenty, and avoiding all figures that did not perfectly
fit into my plan. I made, for instance, no use of the
Minotaur, the Harpies, and certain other monsters."
" But what you have exhibited in that night," said
I, " is so grouped, and fits so well together, that it
can be easily recalled by the imagination and made into
a picture. The painters will certainly not allow such
good subjects to escape them ; and I especially hope
to see Mephistophiles among the Phorcyades, when he
tries the famous mask in profile."
" There are a few pleasantries there," said Goethe,
" which will more or less occupy the world in all sorts
of ways. Suppose the French are the first to perceive
c Helena, 9 and to see what can be done with it for the
stage. They will spoil the piece as it is, but they will
make a wise use of it for their own purposes, and that
is all we can expect or desire. To Phorcyas they will
certainly add a chorus of monsters, as is indeed already
indicated in one passage."
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 351
" It would be a great matter," said I, " if a clever
part of the romantic school treated the piece as an
opera throughout, and Rossini collected all his great
talent for a grand composition, to produce an effect
with the * Helena.' It affords opportunities for mag-
nificent scenes, surprising transformations, brilliant cos-
tumes and charming ballets, which are not easily to
be found elsewhere, to say nothing of the fact that
this abundance of sensible material rests on the foun-
dation of an ingenious fable that could scarcely be
excelled."
" We will wait for what the gods bring us," said
Goethe, " such things are not to be hurried. The
great matter is for people to enter into it, and for
managers, poets, and composers to see their advantage
in it."
Tuesday, February 22, 183 1.
Upper-Consistorial Counsellor Schwabe met me in
the street. I walked with him a little way ; he told
me of his manifold occupations, and thus I was
enabled to look into the important sphere of action
of this distinguished man. He said that he em-
ployed his spare hours in editing a little volume of
new sermons ; that one of his school-books had lately
been translated into Danish, that forty thousand copies
of it had been sold, and that it had been introduced
into the best schools of Prussia. He begged me to
visit him, which I gladly promised to do.
At dinner with Goethe, I spoke of Schwabe, and
Goethe agreed entirely with my praises of him.
" The Grand-Duchess," said he, " values him
highly y and, indeed, she always knows what people
mn
352 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [ l %3*'
are worth. I shall have him drawn for my collection
of portraits, and you will do well to visit him, and ask
his permission in this respect.
" Visit him, and show sympathy in what he is doing
and planning. It will be interesting for you to observe
a peculiar sphere of action, which cannot be rightly
understood without a closer intercourse with such a
man."
Wednesday, February 23, 183 1.
Before dinner, while walking in the Erfurt road, I
met Goethe, who stopped me and took me into his
carriage. We went a good way by the fir-wood, and
talked about natural history.
The mountains and hills were covered with snow,
and I mentioned the great delicacy of the yellow,
observing that at a distance of nine miles, with some
density intervening, a dark surface rather appeared
blue than a white one yellow. Goethe agreed with
me, and we then spoke of the high significance of the
primitive phenomena, behind which we believe the
Deity may directly be discerned.
" I ask not," said Goethe, " whether this highest
Being has reason and understanding, but I feel that He
is Reason, is Understanding itself. Therewith are all
creatures penetrated ; and man has so much of it that
he can recognise parts of the Highest. "
At table, the efforts of certain inquirers into nature
were mentioned, who, to penetrate the organic world,
would ascend through mineralogy.
" This," said Goethe, " is a great mistake. In
the mineralogical world the simplest, in the organic
world the most complex, is the most excellent. We
I83I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 353
See, too, that these two worlds have quite different
tendencies, and that a stepwise progress from one to
the other is by no means to be found,"
I treasured this remark as of great importance,
Thursday, February 24» 183 1.
I read Goethe's essay on Zahn in the Viennese
Jahrbücher, and was filled with admiration when I
thought of the premises which the writing of it pre-
supposed.
At dinner Goethe told me that Soret had been with
him, and that they had made good progress with the
translation of the Metamorphosis.
" The difficulty in nature," said Goethe, " is to
see the law where it is concealed from us, and not to
be misled by phenomena which contradict our senses.
For in nature there is much which contradicts our
Senses, and is nevertheless true. That the sun stands
still, that he does not rise and set, but that the earth
performs a diurnal revolution with incredible swiftness,
contradicts the senses as much as anything, but yet no
well-informed person doubts that this is the case.
Thus, too, there are in the vegetable kingdom con-
tradictory phenomena, with which we must be very
careful not to be led into false ways."
Saturday, February 26, 183 x.
To-day I read a great deal of Goethe's " Theory of
Colours," and was pleased to find that, by frequently
exercising myself on the phenomena, I had become
sufficiently master of the work to feel its great merits
with some degree of clearness. I thought, with
vol. 11, A A
354 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* C 1 ^ 1 *
admiration, what it must have cost to put such a work
together, since I observed not merely the final results,
but looked deeper, and saw what must have been gone
through that these firm results might be attained.
Only a man of great moral power could accomplish
this, and whoever would imitate him must take a very
high position. All that is indelicate, untrue, egotisti-
cal, must vanish from the mind, or real true nature
must scorn him. If men considered this, they would
willingly devote some years of their life to master the
sphere of such a science in such a manner, that they
might thus test their senses, intellect, and character.
They would have respect for all that is according to
law, and approach the Deity as closely as it is possible
for a terrestrial mind.
On the contrary, people occupy themselves too
much with poetry, and supersensuous mysteries, which
are subjective, pliable things, making no further claims
on man, but flattering him, and, at best, leaving him
just where he was.
In poetry, only the really great and pure advances
us ; and this exists as a second nature, either elevating
us to itself or rejecting us. On the other hand,
defective poetry developes our faults, inasmuch as we
take into ourselves the infectious weaknesses of the
poet. Yes, take them in, without knowing it, be-
cause we cannot perceive a defect in that which is
consonant to our nature.
To draw advantage from both the good and the bad
in poetry, we must already be in a very high position»
and have such a foundation that we can regard things
of the sort as objects external to ourselves.
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 355
Hence I commend an intercourse with nature, who
in no wise favours our weaknesses, but either makes
something out of us, or will have nothing at all to do
with us.
Monday, February 28, 183 1.
. I have been occupied all day with the manuscript of
the fourth volume of Goethe's life, which he sent me
yesterday, that I might see if anything remained to be
done. I am very happy with this work, when I
reflect what it already is, and what it may become.
Some books appear quite complete, and leave nothing
to desire. In others, on the contrary, a certain want
of congruity may be observed, which may have arisen
from the fact that the author has worked at very
different epochs.
This fourth volume is altogether very different from
the three preceding. Those constantly proceed in a cer-
tain given direction, while the course is through many
years. In this volume, on the contrary, time seems
scarcely to move, and we can see no decisive effort on
the part of the principal character ; much is under-?
taken but not completed, much is willed but otherwise
directed, and thus we everywhere feel the influence
of a secret power, a kind of destiny, drawing out many
threads for the web which future years must com-
plete.
This volume, therefore, affords a suitable occasion
to speak of that secret, problematical power, which all
men feel, which no philosopher explains, and over
which the religious help themselves with consoling
words.
Goethe names this unspeakable world and life»
A A 2
3SÖ CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I.
enigma the Daemonic (dämonisch); and, while he
defines its nature, we feel that so it is, and the curtains
seem to have been drawn away from before certain
backgrounds of our life. We seem to see further and
more clearly, but soon perceive that the object is too
great and manifold, and that our eyes only reach a
certain limit.
Man is born only for the little ; only what is
known to him can be comprehended by him, or give
him pleasure. A great connoisseur understands a
picture; he knows how to combine the various par-
ticulars into the Universal, which is familiar to him ;
the whole is, to him, as living as the details. Neither
does he entertain a predilection for detached portions ;
he asks not whether a face is ugly or beautiful,
whether a passage is light or dark, but whether
everything is in its place, according to law and order.
But if we show an ignorant man a picture of some
compass, we shall see that, as a whole, it leaves
him unmoved or confused ; that some parts attract,
others repel him ; and that he at last abides by little
things which are familiar to him, praising, perhaps, the
good execution of a helmet or plume.
But, in fact, we men play more or less the part of
this ignorant person before the great destiny-picture of
the world. The lighted part, the Agreeable, attracts
us, the shadowy and unpleasant parts repel us, the
whole confuses us, and we vainly seek the idea of a
single Being to whom we attribute such contradic-
tions.
Now, in human things, one may indeed become a
great connoisseur, inasmuch as one may appropriate to
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 357
oneself the art and knowledge of a master, but, in
divine things, this is only possible with a being equal
to the Highest. Nay, if the Supreme Being attempted
to reveal such mysteries to us, we should not under-
stand them or know what to do with them ; but again
resemble that ignoramus before the picture, to whom
the connoisseur cannot by all the talking in the world
impart the premises on which he judges. On this
account it is quite right that forms of religion have not
been given directly by God himself, but, as the work
of eminent men, have been conformed to the wants
and the understanding of a great mass of their fellows«
If they were the work of God, no man could under-
stand them ; but, being the work of men, they do not
express the Inscrutable.
The religion of the highly-cultivated ancient Greeks
went no further than to give separate expressions of
the Inscrutable by particular Deities. As these indi-
vidualities were only limited beings, and a gap was
obvious in the connection of the whole, they invented
the idea of a Fate, which they placed over all ; but as
this in its turn remained a many-sided Inscrutable, the
difficulty was rather set aside than disposed of.
Christ thought of a God, comprising all in one,
to whom he ascribed all qualities which he found
excellent in himself. This God was the essence of
his own beautiful soul ; full of love and goodness, like
himself; and every way suited to induce good men to
give themselves up trustingly to him, and to receive
this Idea, as the sweetest connection with a higher
sphere. But, as the great Being whom we name the
Deity manifests himself not only in man, but in a
3S8 «CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1831.
rich, powerful nature, and in mighty world-events, a
representation of him, framed from human qualities,
cannot of course be adequate, and the attentive
observer will soon come to imperfections and contra-
dictions, which will drive him to doubt, nay, to
despair, unless he be either little enough to let himself
be soothed by an artful evasion, or great enough to
rise to a higher point of view.
Such a point Goethe early found in Spinoza ; and he
acknowledges with joy how much the views of that
great thinker answered the wants of his youth. In
him he found himself, and in him therefore could he
fortify himself to the best advantage.
And as these views were not of the subjective sort,
but had a foundation in the works and manifestations
of God through the world, so were they not mere
husks which he, after his own later, deeper search
into the world and nature, threw aside as useless, but
were the first root and germ of a plant that went on
growing with equally healthy energy for many years,
and at last unfolded the flower of a rich knowledge.
His opponents have often accused him of having no
faith ; but he merely had not theirs, because it was too
small for him. If he spoke out his own, they would
be astonished ; but they would not be able to compre-
hend him.
But Goethe is far from believing that he knows the
Highest Being as it is. All his written and oral
expressions intimate that it is somewhat inscrutable, of
which men can only have approximating perceptions
and feelings.
- For the rest, nature and we men arc all so pene-
,1831.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOBTHB. 359
trated by the Divine, that it holds us ; that we live,
move, and have our being in it ; that we suffer and are
happy under eternal laws ; that we practise these, and
they are practised on us, whether we recognize them
or not.
The child enjoys his cake without knowing any-
thing of the baker ; the sparrow the cherries, without
thinking how they grew.
Wednesday, March % 9 183 1.
I dined with Goethe to-day, and the conversation
soon turning again on the Daemonic, he added the
following remarks to define it more closely.
" The Daemonic," said he, " is that which cannot
be explained by Reason or Understanding ; it lies not
in my nature, but I am subject to it."
" Napoleon," said I, u seems to have been of the
daemonic sort."
" He was so thoroughly," said Goethe, " and in
the highest degree, so that scarce any one is to be
compared with him. Our late Grand-Duke, too, was
a daemonic nature, full of unlimited power of action
and unrest, so that his own dominion was too little for
him, and the greatest would have been too little.
Daemonic beings of such sort the Greeks reckoned
among their demigods."
u Is not the Daemonic," said I, <c perceptible in
events also ? "
<c Particularly," said Goethe, " and, indeed, in all
which we cannot explain by Reason and Understand-
ing. It manifests itself in the most varied manner
throughout all nature— in the invisible as in the visible.
360 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183 t.
Many creatures are of a purely daemonic kind ; in many
parts of it are effective."
" Has not Mephistophiles," said I, u daemonic traits,
too?"
" No," said Goethe, " Mephistophiles is much too
negative a being« The Daemonic manifests itself in a
thoroughly active power.
" Among artists," he continued, " it is found more
among musicians — less among painters. In Paganini,
it shows itself in a high degree ; and it is thus he pro-
duces such great effects."
I was much pleased at all these remarks, which
made more clear to me what Goethe meant by the
Daemonic«
Thursday, March 3, 183 1.
At noon with Goethe« He was looking through
some architectural designs, and observed it required
some courage to build palaces, inasmuch as we are
never certain how long one stone will remain upon
another.
" Those are most fortunate," said he, u who live in
tents, or who, like some Englishmen, are always going
from one city and one inn to another, and find every-«
where a good table ready."
Sunday. March 6, 183 z«
At dinner talked on various subjects with Goethe«
We spoke of children and their naughty tricks, and he
compared these to the stem- leaves of a plant, which
fall away gradually of their own accord ; and which
need not be corrected with great severity.
" Man," said he, " has various stages which he
must go through, and each brings with it its peculiar
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« 36?
virtues and faults, which, in the epoch to which they
belong, are to be considered natural, and in a manner
right. On the next step he is another man 5 there is
no trace left of the earlier virtues or faults ; but others
have taken their place« And so on to the final trans-
formation, with respect to which we know not what
we shall be."
After dinner, Goethe read me fragments, which
he had kept from 1775, of Hanswursts Hochzeit
(" Hanswurst's wedding"). Kilian Brustfleck opens '
the piece with a monologue, in which he complains
that Hanswurst's education, despite all his care, has
come to no good. This scene, and all the rest, were
written in the tone of Faust. A productive force,
powerful even to wantonness, displayed itself in every
line ; and I could not but lament that it went so far
beyond all bounds, that even the fragments cannot be
communicated.
Goethe read me the list of the dramatis persona^
which nearly filled three pages, and were about a
hundred in number. There were all the nicknames
imaginable 5 some of them so comic and ludicrous, that
we could not help laughing at them. Many referred
to bodily defects, and distinguished a figure so that it
came like life before the eye ; others indicated the most
various follies and vices, and afforded a deep look into
the breadth of the immoral world. Had the piece
been finished, people must have admired the invention
that could combine such various symbolical figures in
one single action.
" It was not to be imagined that I could finish the
piece," said Goethe ; " for it demanded a high degree
362 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. T^I.
of wanton dariug, which I had at moments, but which
did not in fact lie in the serious tenor of my nature,
and on which I could not depend. Then in Germany
our circles are too limited for one to come forward with
such an undertaking. On a broad ground, like Paris,
one might venture such eccentricities, just as one can
there be a Beranger, which would be quite impossible
at Frankfort or Weimar."
Tuesday, March 8, 183 1.
Dined to-day with Goethe, who began by telling me
that he had been reading " Ivanhoe."
u Walter Scott," said he, " is a great talent ; he has
not his equal ; and we need not wonder at the extra-
ordinary effect he produces on the whole reading world.
He gives me much to think of; and I discover in him
a wholly new art, with laws of its own."
We spoke then of the fourth volume of the bio-
graphy, and came upon the subject of the Daemonic
before we were aware.
u In poetry," said Goethe, a especially in that which
is unconscious, before which reason and understanding
fall short, and which therefore produces effects so far
surpassing all conception, there is always something
daemonic.
" So is it with music, in the highest degree, for it
stands so high that no understanding can reach it, and
an influence flows from it which masters all, and for
which none can account. Hence, religious worship
cannot dispense with it ; it is one of the chief means of
working upon men miraculously. Thus the Daemonic
loves to throw itself into significant individuals, espe?
1831«] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 363
cially when they are in high places, like Frederic and
Peter the Great.
" Our late Grand-Duke had it to such a degree, that
nobody could resist him. He had an attractive influ-
ence upon men by his mere tranquil presence, without
needing even to show himself good-humoured and
friendly. All that I undertook by his advice suc-
ceeded ; so that, in cases where my own understanding
and reason were insufficient, I needed only to ask him
what was to be done, when he gave me an answer in-
stinctively, and I could always be sure of happy results.
" He would have been enviable indeed if he could
have possessed himself of my ideas and higher striv-
ings; for when the daemonic spirit forsook him, and
only the human was left, he knew not how to set to
work, and was much troubled at it.
44 In Byron, also, this element was probably active
in a high degree, whence he possessed powers of
attraction to a great extent, so that women especially
could not resist him."
44 Into the idea of the Divine," said I, by way of
experiment, " this active power which we name the
Daemonic would not seem to enter."
44 My good friend," said Goethe, " what do we
know of the idea of the Divine? and what can our
narrow ideas tell of the Highest Being? Should I,
like a Turk, name it with a hundred names, I should
Still fall short, and, in comparison with such boundless
attributes, have said nothing."
Wednesday, March 9, 183 1.
Goethe continued to speak of Sir Walter Scott with
the highest acknowledgment.
364 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [ I ^3 t <
«
" We read for too many poor things," said he ;
thus losing time, and gaining nothing. We should
only read what we admire, as I did in my youth, and
as I now experience with Sir Walter Scott. I have
just begun c Rob Roy, 9 and will read his best novels
in succession. All is great — material, import, charac-
ters, execution ; and then what infinite diligence in the
preparatory studies ! what truth of detail in the execu-
tion ! We see, too, what English history is ; and
what a thing it is when such an inheritance fells to the
lot of a clever poet. Our German history, in five
volumes is, on the other hand, sheer poverty ; so that,
after c Goetz von Berlichingen,' writers went im*
mediately into private life, giving us an * Agnes
Bernauerin,' and an c Otto von Wittelsbach,'* which
was really not much."
I said that I had been reading " Daphnis and Chloe,"
in Courier's translation.
" That, also," said Goethe, " is a masterpiece,
which I have often read and admired, in which Under-
standing, Art and Taste, appear at their highest point,
and beside which the good Virgil retreats somewhat
into the back-ground. The landscape is quite in the
Poussin style, and appears, behind the personages,
finished with a very few strokes.
u You know Courier found, in the Florentine
Library, a new manuscript, containing the principal
passage of the poem which was not in the preceding
editions. Now, I must acknowledge that I have
always read and admired the poem in its imperfect
* These are two plays written after the manner of " Götz** : the first
is by Count Joseph von Toning j the second, by Francis Babo*
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 365
state, without observing or feeling that the proper apex
was wanting. But this may be a proof of the excel-
lence of the poem, since what we possessed satisfied
us so completely that we never thought of what was
deficient."
After dinner, Goethe showed me a drawing by
Coudray, of an extremely tasteful door for the Dorn-
burg Castle, with a Latin inscription, signifying, that
he who entered should find friendly reception and
entertainment, and that to him who passed by a happy
journey was wished.
Goethe had translated this inscription into a German
distich, and placed it as a motto over a letter which he
had written, in the summer of 1828, after the death of
the Grand-Duke, during his residence at Dornburg,
to Colonel von Beulwitz. I had heard much in pub-
lic of this letter, and was very glad when Goethe
showed it me to-day, with the drawing of the
door.
I read the letter with great interest, admiring the
skill with which he had used the localities of the Dorn-
burg castle and the valley below to introduce the
noblest views — views suited to raise man up after
sustaining a great loss, and to place him on his feet
again.
I was much pleased with this letter, observing that
one need not travel far in search of good material,
but that all depends on the aptness of the poet's mind
to produce something valuable from the most trifling
occasions.
Goethe put the letter and drawing in a portfolio by
themselves to preserve both for the future.
366 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [^3 1.
Thursday, March 10, 1831.
I read to-day, with the Prince, Goethe's novel of
the u Tiger and the Lion," * and while he was highly
pleased at feeling the effect of a great art, I was no
less so at taking a clear view of a finished composi-
tion, I felt a certain omnipresence of thought, which
may have arisen from the fact that the poet cherished
the subject in his mind for so many years, and thus
became so completely master of his subject that he
could survey the whole and the details with the
greatest clearness, and place every single part just
where it was wanted, and might prepare and influence
what was coming. Everything has a relation to what
is to come and to what has preceded, everything is
right in its place, so that as a composition we can
scarcely conceive anything more perfect. As we went
on reading I felt the strongest wish that Goethe could
contemplate this gem of a novel as the work of
another. At the same time, I reflected that there was
a great advantage in the dimensions of the subject,
enabling the poet to put all skilfully together, and the
reader to approach the whole and its details with
some reason.
(Sup.*) Thursday, March 10, 1831.
This morning a short half hour with Goethe. I
had to bring him the information that the Grand-
Duchess had determined to bestow the sum of a
thousand dollars upon the directors of the theatre, to be
employed in the cultivation of promising young talent.
* "Die Novelle."— Trans.
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 367
This information gave evident pleasure to Goethe, who
has at heart the further prosperity of the theatre.
I had then to consult him concerning a commission
of another kind. It is the intention of the Grand-
Duchess to invite to Weimar the best German author
of the present time, provided he is without employ-
ment or fortune, and merely lives on the fruits of his
talent, and to provide a sinecure place for him, so that
he may find leisure to allow all his works to attain
the utmost perfection, and not be in the piteous case
of working hastily from necessity, to the prejudice of
his own talent and of literature.
" The intention of the Grand-Duchess," returned
Goethe, cc is most princely, and I bow before her noble
views ; but it will be very difficult to make a proper
choice. The most distinguished of our present talents
are already in easy circumstances, through state em-
ployment, pensions, and their own private resources.
Besides, every one would not suit here, and every one
would not be really assisted by coming. I will, how-
ever, bear the noble design in mind, and see what good
the next year may bring us."
Friday, March 11, 183 1.
At dinner with Goethe, talked on various subjects.
" It is a peculiarity of Walter Scott's," said he, " that
his great talent in representing details often leads him
into faults. Thus, in ' Ivanhoe,' there is a scene
where they are seated at a table in a castle-hall, at
night, and a stranger enters. Now, he is quite right
in describing the stranger's appearance and dress, but
it is a fault that he goes to the length of describing his
feet, shoes, and stockings. When we sit down in the
368 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. l 1 ^ 1 *
evening, and some one comes in, we see only the
upper part of his body. If I describe the feet, day-
light enters at once, and the scene loses its nocturnal
character."
I felt the force of these words, and noted them
down for future occasions.
Goethe then continued to speak with great admira-
tion of Sir Walter Scott. I requested him to put his
views on paper, which he refused to do, remarking
that Scott's art was so high that it is hard to give
a public opinion about him.
Monday, March 14, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe, and talked of several subjects.
I had to tell him of the " Dumb Girl of Portici," which
had been represented the day before yesterday 5 when
we said that a properly-grounded motive for a revolu-
tion was not shown at all, and that this very circum-
stance pleased people, inasmuch as every one could fill
up the gap with something that was offensive in his
own city and country.
" The whole opera," said Goethe, " is, in fact, a
satire upon the people, for when it makes a public
matter of a fisher-girl's amour, and calls the prince a
tyrant because he marries a princess, it appears as
absurd and ridiculous as possible."
After dinner Goethe showed me some drawings,
illustrative of Berlin phrases, in which the liveliest
subjects were represented, and we praised the modera-
tion of the artist in approaching caricature, without
actually going into it.
Tuesday, March 15, 183 1.
I occupied myself the whole morning with the
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 369
manuscript of the fourth volume of <c Truth and
Poetry/' and wrote the following notes for Goethe : —
The second, fourth, and fifth books may be deemed
complete, with the exception of some trifles that can
easily be settled in a final revision.
Here followed some remarks on the first and third
books : —
. FIRST BOOK.
The narrative of Jung's failure with the ophthalmic
operation is so seriously important that it induces deep
internal reflection ; and, if told in society, would
assuredly occasion a pause in conversation. I there-
fore suggest that it should terminate the first book, in
order that a kind of pause may be produced.
The pretty anecdotes of the fire in the Judengasse
(Jew's lane), and the skating in the mother's red
velvet cloak, which are now at the end of the first
book, and are not rightly placed there, should properly
be connected with the portion which treats of uncon-
scious, unpremeditated poetic production. For those
events refer to a similarly happy state of mind,' which,
once in action, does not long think and ask what is to
be done, but has already acted before the thought
comes«
THIRD BOOK.
According to our plan, this book would comprise
all that might be dictated respecting the external poli-
tical condition of 1775, the internal condition of Ger-
many, the education of the nobility, &c*
* The remarks here referred to are in the second book of the fourth
volume (the 17th of the whole) j otherwise, Eckermann's suggestions seem
to have been followed. — 'Trans.
VOL. II. B B
370 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^3 1.
All that belongs to " Hanswursts Hochzeit" and
other poetical projects — carried out and not carried
out — might, if it did not better suit the fourth book,
which is already very thick, or interrupt the connec-
tion, which is well observed there, be properly intro-
duced in the third.
I have collected all the outlines and fragments for
this purpose in the third book, and wish all happiness
and inclination to dictate what is still wanting, with
fresh spirit and wonted grace.
E.
Dined with the Prince and M. Soret. We talked a
great deal about Courier, and then about the con-
clusion of Goethe's " Novel," when I made the
remark that in that work import and art stood too high
for people to know what to make of it. They like to
hear and see over and over again what they have seen
and heard already ; and as they are accustomed to find
the flower Poetry in thoroughly poetical fields, they are
amazed when they see it springing from a thoroughly
real soil. In the poetical region people will put up
with anything, and no wonder is too great for belief;
but here, in the broad light of real day, they are
startled by the slightest deviation from the ordinary
course of things. Being surrounded by a thousand
wonders to which we are accustomed, we are troubled
at a single one, which has hitherto been new. Again,
mankind finds no difficulty in believing the wonders of
an earlier period, but to give a sort of actuality to a
wonder that happens to-day, and to know it as a
higher reality by the side of that which is visibly
1831.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 37I
real,— this does not seem to lie in human capacity, or,
if it does, it seems to have been expelled by education.
Our age will hence become more and more prosaic,
and, with the exception of faith in the supernatural,
all poetry will gradually disappear.
As a conclusion to Goethe's " Novel," nothing is
required but the feeling that man is not quite deserted
by higher beings, but that, on the contrary, they keep
their eye on him, sympathize with him, and, in case of
need, come to his assistance.
There is something so natural in this belief, that it
belongs to man, is a constituent part of his being, and
is innate with all nations, as the foundation of all
religion. In the first human beginnings, it appeals
strong y but it does not yield to the highest culture, so
that we find it still great in Plato, and, last of all, just
as brilliant in the author of " Daphnis and Chloe."
In this charming poem, the Divine operates under the
form of Pan and the nymphs, who take an interest in
pious shepherds and lovers, save and protect them in
the day-time, appear to them in dreams at night, and
tell them what is to be done. In Goethe's u Novel,"
this Invisible Guardian is conceived under the form of
the Eternal and the Angels, who once, in a den, amid
fierce lions, guarded the prophet, and who here, in the
presence of a similar monster, afford their protection
to a good child. The lion does not tear the boy to
pieces, but rather appears mild and docile; for those
higher beings who have been active through all eternity
participate in the affair.
But that this may not appear too marvellous to an
incredulous nineteenth century, the poet makes use of
b b 2
372 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. l 1 ^ 1 '
a second powerful motive, namely, that of music, the
magic power of which has been felt by mankind from
the earliest times, and by which we allow ourselves
to be governed every day, without knowing how it
happens.
And as Orpheus by this magic drew after him all
the beasts of the forest, and as in the last Greek poem
a young shepherd leads goats with his flute, so that
to different melodies they disperse and assemble, fly
from the enemy and graze in quiet, so in Goethe's
" Novel" does music exercise its power on the lion,
inasmuch as the violent beast yields to the melodies of
the dulcet flute, and follows whithersoever he is led by
the innocence of the boy.
When I have spoken with divers people about such
inexplicable things, I have observed that man is so
deeply impressed with his excellent qualities, that he
does not hesitate to endow the gods with them, but
cannot easily resolve to give a part of them to brutes.
Wednesday, March 16, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe, to whom I brought back the
fourth volume of his life, and conversed much about it.
We also spoke of the conclusion to " William
Tell," and I expressed my wonder that Schiller should
have committed the fault of lowering his hero by his
unworthy conduct to the fugitive Duke of Suabia,
whom he judges severely while he boasts of his own
deed.
" It is scarcely conceivable," said Goethe, " but
Schiller, like others, was subject to the influence of
women ; and, if he committed such a fault, it was
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 373
rather on account of this influence, than from his own
fine nature."
Friday, March 18, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. I brought him " Daphnis
and Chloe," which he wished to read once more.
We spoke of higher maxims, whether it was good
or possible to communicate them to others. u The
capacity of apprehending what is high," said Goethe,
" is very rare ; and therefore, in common life, a man
does well to keep such things for himself, and only to
give out so much as is needful to have some advantage
against others."
We touched upon the point that many men, espe-
cially critics and poets, wholly ignore true greatness,
while they assign an extraordinary value to medio-
crity.
" Man," said Goethe, " recognises and praises
only that which he himself is capable of doing ; and
as certain people have their proper existence in the
mediocre, they get a trick of thoroughly depreciating
that in literature which, while faulty, may have good
points, that they may elevate the mediocre, which they
praise, to a greater eminence."
I noted this that I might know how to think of such
a practice in future.
We then spoke of the a Theory of Colours," and
of certain German professors who continue to warn
their pupils against it as a great error.
" I am sorry, for the sake of many a good scholar,"
said Goethe ; " but, for myself, it is quite indifferent ;
my theory is as old as the world, and cannot always be
repudiated and set aside."
374 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^3 1.
_ «
Goethe then told me that he was making good pro-
gress with his new edition of the " Metamorphosis of
Plants/ 9 and Soret's translation, which was more and
more felicitous.
" It will be a remarkable book," said he, " inas-
much as the most varied elements are worked up into
one whole. I have inserted some passages from some
important young German naturalists, and it is pleasing
to see that such a good style has been formed among
the better writers in Germany, that we cannot tell
whether one or the other is speaking. However, the
book gives me more trouble than I thought, and I
was at first led into the undertaking almost against
myself, but something Daemonic prevailed, which was
not to be resisted."
" You did well," said I, " in yielding to such
influences, for the Daemonic seems to be of such a
powerful nature, that it is sure to carry its point at
last."
" Only," replied Goethe, " man, in his turn, must
endeavour to carry his point against the Daemonic >
and, in the present case, I must try by all industry and
toil to make my book as good as lies in my power,
and as circumstances will allow. Such matters are in
the same predicament as the game which the French
call codilUy where a great deal is decided by the
dice which are thrown, but where it is left to the
skill of the player to place the men well on the
board."
I respected these excellent remarks, which I stored
up as good doctrine, and as a rule for practice.
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 375
Sunday, March 20, 183 1.
Goethe told me at table that he had been lately
reading " Daphnis and Chloe."
" The book," said he, " is so beautiful, that, amid
the bad circumstances in which we live, we cannot
retain the impression we receive from it, but are
astonished anew every time we read it. The clearest
day prevails in it, and we think we are looking at
nothing but Herculanean pictures, while these paint-
ings react upon the book, and assist our fancy as we
read."
u I was much pleased," said 1^ u at a certain isola-
tion in which the whole is placed. There is scarcely
a foreign allusion to take us our of those happy regions.
Of the deities, Pan and the nymphs are alone active,
any other is scarcely named, and still we see that these
are quite enough for the wants of shepherds."
" And yet, notwithstanding all this isolation," said
Goethe, " a complete world is developed. We see
shepherds of every kind, agriculturists, gardeners, vine-
dressers, sailors, robbers, and warriors, besides genteel
townsmen, great lords, and serfs."
" We also see man," said I, u in all his grades
of life, from his birth to his old age; and all the
domestic circumstances which are occasioned by
changes of season pass before our eyes."
cc Then the landscape," said Goethe, — " how clearly
is it given with a few touches ! We can see, rising
behind the persons, vineyards, fields, and orchards ;
below, the meadow and the stream ; and, in the dis-
tance, the broad sea. Then there is not a trace of
376 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [*83I.
gloomy days, of mists, clouds, and damp, but always
the clearest bluest sky, a charming air and the driest
soil, so that one would readily stretch one's naked
limbs anywhere.
44 The whole poem," * continued Goethe, " shows
the highest art and cultivation. It has been so well
considered, that not a motive is wanting, but all are of
the best and most substantial kind ; as, for instance,
that of the treasure near the dolphin on the shore.
Then there is a taste, and a perfection, and a delicacy
of feeling, which cannot be excelled. Everything that
is repulsive and disturbs from without the happy con-
dition which the poem expresses, — such as invasion,
robbery, and war, — is got rid of as quickly as possible,
so that scarcely a trace of it is left. Then vice
appears in the train of the townsmen, and there not in
the principal characters, but in a subordinate person-
age. All this is of the highest beauty."
44 Then," said I, " I was much pleased to see how
well the relation between master and servant is ex-
pressed. On the one hand, there is the kindest treat-
ment; on the other, in spite of all naive freedom,
great respect and an endeavour to gain, in any way,
the favour of the master. Thus the young towns-
man, who has rendered himself odious to Daphnis,
endeavours* when the latter is recognised as his mas-
ter's son, to regain his favour by boldly rescuing Chloe
from the cowherds, and bringing her back to him."
44 All these things," said Goethe, 44 show great
understanding ; it is excellent also that Chloe preserves
* " Gedicht" has a wider meaning than the English word " poem."—
Trans,
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 377
her innocence to the end, — and the motives for this are
so well contrived, that the greatest human affairs are
brought under notice. One must write a whole book
properly to estimate all the great merits of this poem,
and one would do well to read it every year, to be in-
structed by it again and again, and to receive anew the
impression of its great beauty. "
Monday, March ai, 183 1.
We talked on political subjects, — of the incessant
disturbances at Paris, and the fancy of young people to
meddle in the highest affairs of state.
" In England, also," said I, " the students some
time ago tried to obtain an influence on the decision
of the Catholic question by sending in petitions ; but
they were laughed at, and no further notice was taken
of them."
" The example of Napoleon," said Goethe, u has,
especially in the young people of France who grew up
under that hero, excited a spirit of egotism ; and they
will not rest until a great despot once again rises up
among them, in whom they may see the perfection of
what they themselves wish to be. The misfortune is,
that a man like Napoleon will not so soon again be
born y and I almost fear that some hundred thousands
of human lives will be wasted before the world is again
tranquillized.
" Of literary influence there can be no thought at
present ; one can now do nothing further than quietly
prepare good things for a more peaceful time."
After these few political remarks, we spoke again of
" Daphnis and Chloe." Goethe praised Courier's
translation as perfect.
378 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I*
cc Courier did well," said he,- " to respect and retain
Amyot's old translation, and only in parts to improve,
to purify, and bring it nearer the original. The old
French is so naive, and suits the subject so perfectly,
that it will not be easy to make, in any language, a
more perfect translation of this book."
We then spoke of Courier's own works, — of his
little fugitive pieces, and the defence of the famous ink-
spot on the manuscript at Florence.
" Courier," said Goethe, " is a great natural talent.
He has features of Lord Byron, as also of Beaumar-
chais and Diderot. He is like Byron in command
over all things which may serve him as argument, —
like Beaumarchais in his adroitness as an advocate, —
like Diderot in dialectic skill, — and it is not possible
to be more spirited and witty.* However, he seems
not entirely to clear himself from the ink-spot accusa-
tion, and is, in his whole tendency, not sufficiently
positive to claim unqualified praise. He is at variance
with all the world, and we cannot but suppose that
some fault is on his side."
We spoke of the difference between the German
notion Geist y and the French Esprit.
u The French Esprit" said Goethe, " means nearly
the same with our German word Wit*. Our Geist
might, perhaps, be expressed in French by Esprit and
Arne* It includes the idea of productivity, which is
not in the French Esprit."
cc Voltaire," said I, " had nevertheless what we name
* The words "spirited and witty** are used by the American translator
as an equivalent for the untranslatable " geistreich." The remarks which
immediately follow touch upon this most difficult word.— Tram.
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 37g
Geist in the German sense of the word. And as
Esprit does not suffice, what word do the French use ? "
" In such a lofty instance," said Goethe, " they say
Genie."
" I am now reading," said I, " a volume of Diderot,
and am astonished by the extraordinary talent of the
man. And what knowledge ! what a power of lan-
guage ! We look into a great animated world, where
one constantly stimulated another, and mind and cha-
racter were kept in such constant exercise, that both
must be flexible and strong. But it seems to me quite
extraordinary to see what men the French had in their
literature in the last century. I am astonished when I
only look at it."
"It was the metamorphosis of a hundred-year-old
literature," said Goethe, " which had been growing
ever since Louis XIV., and stood now in full flower.
But it was really Voltaire who excited such minds as
Diderot, D'Alembert, and Beaumarchais ; for to be
somewhat near him a man needed to be much^ and
could take no holidays."
Goethe then told me of a young professor of the
Oriental languages and literature at Jena, who had
lived a long time at Paris, and was so highly cultivated,
that he wished I would make his acquaintance.
As I went, he gave me an essay, by Schrön, on the
expected comet, that I might not remain entirely a
stranger to such matters.
Tuesday, March 22, 183 1.
After dinner, Goethe read to me passages from the
letter of a young friend, at Rome. Some German
artists appeared there with long hair, moustachios, shirt-
380 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I*
collars turned over on old-fashioned German coats,
tobacco-pipes, and bull-dogs. They do not seem to
visit Rome for the sake of the great masters, or to
learn anything. To them Raphael seems weak, and
Titian merely a good colourist.
" Niebuhr," said Goethe, " was right when he saw
a barbarous age coming. It is already here, we are in
the midst of it ; for wherein does barbarism consist,
unless in not appreciating what is excellent ! "
Our young friend then gave an account of the car-
nival, the election of the new pope, and the revolution
which broke out immediately after.
We saw Horace Vernet ensconcing himself like a
knight, while some German artists stay quietly at home,
and cut off their beards, which seems to intimate that
they have not, by their conduct, made themselves very
popular among the Romans.
We discussed the question whether the errors now
perceptible in some young German artists had pro-
ceeded from individuals, and spread abroad by intel-
lectual contagion, or whether they had their origin in
the general tendency of the time.
" They come," said Goethe, " from a few indivi-
duals, and have now been in operation for forty years.
The doctrine was, that the artist chiefly needs piety and
genius to be equal to the best. Such a doctrine was
very flattering, and was eagerly snatched up. For, to
become pious, a man need learn nothing, and genius
each one inherited from his mother. One need only
utter something that flatters indolence and conceit, to
be sure of plenty of adherents among commonplace
people. "
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, 38 1
Friday, March 25, 183 1.
Goethe showed me an elegant green elbow-chair,
which he had lately bought at an auction.
" However," said he, u I shall use it but little, or not
at all ; for all kinds of commodiousness are against my
nature. You see in my chamber no sofa; I always
sit in my old wooden chair, and never till a few weeks
ago have I had a leaning-place put for my head. If
surrounded by convenient tasteful furniture, my
thoughts are absorbed, and I am placed in an agree-
able but passive state. Unless we are accustomed to
them from early youth, splendid chambers and elegant
furniture are for people who neither have nor can have
any thoughts."
Sunday, March 27, 183 1.
After long expectations, the finest spring weather
has come at last. On the perfectly blue heaven floats
only some little white cloud now and then, and it is
warm enough to resume summer clothing.
Goethe had the table covered in a pavilion in the
garden, and so we dined once more in the open air.
We talked of the Grand-Duchess ; how she is quietly
at work in all directions, doing good, and making the
hearts of all her subjects her own.
" The Grand-Duchess," said Goethe, " has as much
intellect and sweetness as good-will; she is a true
blessing to the country. And as men are everywhere
quick to feel whence they receive benefits, worshipping
the sun and kindly elements, I wonder not that all
hearts turn to her with love, and that she is speedily
appreciated, as she deserves to be."
382 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l83 z «
I mentioned that I had begun " Minna von Barn-
helm" with the Prince, and observed how excellent
this piece appeared to me.
" Lessing," said I, " has been spoken of as a cold
man of understanding ; but I find in this drama as
much heart, soul, charming naturalness, and free world-
culture of a fresh, cheerful, living man, as one could
desire."
" You may imagine," said Goethe, " what an effect
that work produced on us young people when it came
out in that dark time. Truly it was a glittering meteor.
It taught us to perceive that there was something
higher than that of which the weak literary epoch gave
any notion. The first two acts are a model in the art
of introduction ; from which much has been learned,
and much may be learned still. Nowadays, indeed,
writers are not curious about this art : the effect, which
was once expected in the third act, they will now have
in the first scene : and they do not reflect that it is
with poetry as with going to sea, where we should
push from the shore, and reach a certain elevation,
before we unfurl all our sails."
Goethe had some excellent Rhine wine brought,
which had been sent by his Frankfort friends, as a
present, on his last birthday. He told some stories
about Merck, and how he could not pardon the Grand-
Duke for having once, in the Ruhl near Eisenach,
praised an ordinary wine as excellent.
" Merck and I," he continued, " were always to
one another as Mephistophiles to Faust. Thus he
scoffed at a letter written by my father from Italy, in
which the latter complained of the miserable way of
I83I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 383
living, — the heavy wine, the food to which he was
unaccustomed, and the mosquitoes. Merck could not
forgive him, in that delicious country and surrounded
by such magnificence, for being troubled about such
little matters as eating, drinking, and flies.
" All Merck's tauntings, no doubt, proceeded from
a high state of culture ; only, as he was not produc-
tive, but had, on the contrary, a decidedly negative
tendency, he was ever more inclined to blame than
praise, and was involuntarily always seeking for means
to gratify this inclination."
We talked of Vogel, and his ministerial talents ; of
* * * , and his character.
« * * * » g^j Goethe, " is a man by him-
self — a man who can be compared with no other. He
was the only one who sided with me in opposing the
freedom of the press : he stands fast ; one can depend
on him ; he will always abide by what is legitimate."
After dinner, we walked up and down in the garden,
taking our pleasure in the white snow-drops and yel-
low crocuses, now in full flower. The tulips, too,
were coming out ; and we talked of the splendour and
costliness of this growth of Holland.
" A great flower-painter," said Goethe, " is not
now to be expected : we have attained too high a
degree of scientific truth ; and the botanist counts the
stamina after the painter, while he has no eye for
picturesque lights and grouping."
Monday, March 28, 183 x.
To-day I again passed some very delightful hours
with Goethe. " My c Metamorphosis of Plants,'"
384 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I
said he, " is as good as finished. What I have to
say about the spiral and Herr von Martius is also as
good as. done, and I have this morning resumed the
fourth volume of my c Autobiography/ and drawn up
a scheme of what I have yet to do. I may almost say
that I find it enviable to be allowed, at my advanced
age, to write the history of my youth, and to describe
an epoch which is, in many respects, of high signifi-
cance."
We talked over the several particulars, which were
present to my mind a,s well as to his.
" In the description of your love-affair with Lili,"
said I, " we never miss your youth, but these scenes
bear the perfect breath of early years."
" That is because such scenes are poetical," said
Goethe, " and I was able to compensate by the force
of poetry for the feeling of youthful love, in which
I was deficient."
We then talked of the remarkable passage, in which
Goethe describes his sister's situation. " This chap-
ter," said he, " will be read with interest by many
ladies of education, for there will be many like my
sister in this respect, that, with superior mental and
moral endowments, they are without the advantage of
personal beauty."
" That, when a ball or festival was at hand," said I,
" she was generally afflicted with an eruption in the
face, is so odd that it may be ascribed to the influence of
something demonic."
" She was a remarkable being," said Goethe ; tc she
stood morally very high, and had not a trace of sen-
suality about her. The thought of resigning herself to
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 38$
a man was repulsive to her, and we may imagine that
this peculiarity caused many unpleasant hours in mar-
riage. Women who have a similar aversion, or do
not love their husbands, will feel the force of this.
On this account I could never look upon my sister as
married; she would have been much more in her
place as an abbess in a convent.
" Although she was married to one of the best of
men, she was still unhappy in a married life, and hence
it was that she so passionately opposed my projected
union with Lili."
Tuesday, March 29, 183 1.
We talked to-day about Merck, and Goethe told
me some more characteristic features.
" The late Grand-Duke," said he, " was very fond
of Merck, so that he once became his security for a
debt of four thousand dollars. Before long, Merck,
to our astonishment, sent the bond back. His cir-
cumstances had not improved, and we could not divine
what sort of a negociation he had made. When I
saw him again, he explained the enigma thus, —
" * The Duke,' said he, * is an excellent, generous
man, who trusts and helps men whenever he can.
Now I thought to myself, 'If you cheat him out of
his money, that will prejudice a thousand others ; for
he will lose his precious trustfulness, and many unfor-
tunate but worthy men will suffer, because one was a
rascal.' Well now — what have I done ? I have
made a speculation, and borrowed the money from a
scoundrel, for if I cheat him it will be no matter ; but
if I had cheated our good lord, it would have been a
pity.' " *
VOL. II. C C
386 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [l^I.
We laughed at the whimsical greatness of the
man.
" Merck had a habit," continued Goethe, " of
continually shouting A*, A*, as he talked. This habit
grew upon him with advancing years, till at length it
was like the bark of a dog. He fell at last into a deep
hypochondriacal gloom, the consequence of his many
speculations, and finished by shooting himself. He
imagined he must become bankrupt ; but it was found
that his affairs were by no means in so bad a state as
he had supposed."
Wednesday, March 30, 183 1.
We talked again of the Daemonic.
" It throws itself willingly into figures of impor-
tance," said Goethe, u and prefers somewhat dark
times. In a clear prosaic city, like Berlin, for instance,
it would scarcely find occasion to manifest itself."
In this remark Goethe expressed what I had been
thinking some days since. This gave me pleasure,
as we always feel delight in finding our thoughts con-
firmed.
Yesterday and this morning I had been reading the
third volume of his " Biography," and felt, as in the
case of a foreign language, when, after making some
progress, we again read a book, which we thought
we understood before, but now first perceive in its
minutest touches and delicate shades.
** Your * Biography,' " said I, " is a book by which
we find our culture greatly assisted."
" Those are merely results from my life," said he ;
" and the particular facts that are related serve only to
confirm a general reflection — a higher truth."
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 387
" What you state about Basedow," said I, <c how, in
order to attain his higher ends, he stood in need of
persons, and would have gained their favour, but never
reflected that he would spoil all by such a totally reck-
less utterance of his offensive religious views, and by
making men regard with suspicion that to which they
adhered with love, — these and similar traits appear to
me highly important."
" I imagine," said Goethe, " that there are in the
book some symbols of human life. I called it Dich-
tung und Wahrheit (Poetry and Truth), because it
raises itself by higher tendencies from the region of a
lower Reality. Now Jean Paul, in the spirit of
contradiction, has written Wahrheit aus meinem Leben
(Truth out of my Life), as if the truth from the life
of such a man could be any other than that the author
was a Philistine. But the Germans do not easily
understand how to receive anything out of the com-
mon course, and what is of a high nature often passes
by them without their being aware of it. A fact of
our lives is valuable, not so far as it is true, but so far
as it is significant."
Thursday, March 31, 183 1.
Dined at the Prince's with Soret and Meyer. We
talked of literary matters, and Meyer gave an account
of his first acquaintance with Schiller.
" I was walking with Goethe," said he, " in the
place called the Paradise, near Jena, where we met
Schiller, and conversed with him for the first time.
He had not yet completed his c Don Carlos;' he had
just returned from Swabia, and seemed very sick, and
in a state of nervous suffering. His face was like the
c c 2
388 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
picture of a crucified Christ. Goethe thought he
could not live a fortnight ; but as his situation became
more agreeable he grew better, and, indeed, it was not
till then that he wrote all his important works."
Meyer then related some traits of Jean Paul and
Schlegel — both of whom he had met at a public-house
in Heidelberg — and some pleasant reminiscences of his
residence in Italy, which entertained us highly.
I always feel happy near Meyer ; probably because
he is a self-relying, satisfied person, who takes but
little notice of the circumstances around him, but at
suitable intervals exhibits his own comfortable soul.
At the same time, he is everywhere well-grounded,
possesses the greatest treasure of knowledge, and a
memory to which the most remote events are as
present as if they happened yesterday. He has a pre-
ponderance of understanding which might make us
dread him, if it did not rest upon the noblest culture j
but, as it is, his quiet presence is always agreeable,
always instructive.
(Sup. *) Wednesday, March 31, 1 8 3 1 .
Goethe had been for some time very unwell, so that
he could only see his most intimate friends. Some
weeks before, bleeding had been ordered him ; then he
felt uneasiness and pain in his right leg, until at last his
internal complaint vented itself by a wound in the foot;
when improvement speedily followed. This wound,
too, has now healed for some days, and he is now as
lively as ever.
The Grand-Duchess had paid him a visit to-day,
and had returned very well satisfied. She had inquired
after his health ; when he very gallantly answered, that
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 389
until to-day he had not perceived his recovery, but that
her presence had made him once more feel the blessing
of restored health.
Friday, April 1, 1830.
At table talked with Goethe on various subjects.
He showed me a water-colour drawing by Herr von
Reutern, representing a young peasant, who stands in
the market-place of a small town near a female basket-
seller. The young man is surveying the baskets,
which lie before him, while two females, who are
seated, and a stout lass, who stands by them, regard
his comely, youthful face with satisfaction. The
picture is so prettily composed, and there is such
naivete and truth in the expression of the figures, that
one cannot look at it enough.
" Water-colour painting," said Goethe, " is brought
to a very high degree in this picture. There are some
silly folks who say that Herr von Reutern is indebted
to no one in his art, but has everything from himself,
as if a man could have anything from himself but
clumsiness and stupidity. If this artist has had no
master so called, he has nevertheless had intercourse
with excellent masters, and from these, as well as from
great predecessors and ever-present nature, he has
acquired what he now possesses. Nature has given
him an excellent talent, and nature and art together
have perfected him. He is excellent, and in many
respects unique, but we cannot say that he has every-
thing from himself. Of a thoroughly crazy and
defective artist, we may, indeed, say he has everything
.from himself; but of an excellent one, never."
Goethe then showed me a work by the same artist,
390 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. t 1 ^ 1 »
a frame richly painted with gold and various colours,
with a place left in the middle for an inscription. At
the top there was a building in the Gothic style ; rich
arabesques, with landscapes and domestic scenes inter-
woven, ran down the two sides ; at the bottom was a
pleasant woodland scene, with the freshest grass and
foliage.
" Herr von Reutern," says Goethe, " wishes I
would write neatly in the blank space ; but his frame
is such a splendid work of art, that I dread to spoil
the picture with my handwriting. I have composed
some verses for the purpose, and think it will be
better to have them inserted by the hand of a cali-
grapher. I would then sign them myself. What do
you advise in this matter ? "
" If I were Herr von Reutern," said I, " I should
be grieved to have the poem in the hand of another ;
happy, if it were written in your own. The painter
has displayed art enough in the frame — none is needed
in the writing ; it is only important that it should be
genuine — in your own hand. I advise you, too, not
to use the Roman, but the German text ; for your
hand has in that a more peculiar character, and,
besides, it harmonizes better with the Gothic design
in the frame."
" You may be right," said Goethe ; " and in the
end it will be the shortest way. Perhaps to-day will
bring a courageous moment, in which I may venture
upon it. But if I make a blot on the beautiful pic-
ture," he added, laughing, " you shall answer for it."
<c Write only," said I, u and it will be well, how-
ever it may be."
J83I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE« 39I
Tuesday, April 5, 183 1.
At noon with Goethe. " In Art," said he, " we
do not easily meet a talent that gives us more pleasure
than that of Neureuther. Artists seldom confine
themselves to what they can do well ; most are always
trying to do more than they can, and are too fond of
going beyond the circle in which Nature has placed their
talent. But of Neureuther, we can say that he stands
above his talent. Objects from all departments of
nature are at his command ; he draws ground, rocks,
and trees, as well as men or animals, and, while he
lavishes such wealth on slight marginal drawings, he
seems to play with his capabilities, and the spectator
feels that pleasure which is ever wont to accompany
a free, easy, libation from abundant means.
" No one has gone so far as he in marginal draw«
ings ; even the great talent of Albert Dürer has been
to him less a pattern than an incitement. I will send
a copy of these drawings to Scotland, to Mr. Carlyle,
and hope thus to make no unwelcome present to that
friend."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, April 14, 183 1.
A soiree at the Prince's. One of the old gentlemen
present, who remembered many things of the first
years of Goethe's residence here, related to us the
following very characteristic anecdote : —
" I was present," said he, " when Goethe, in the
year 1784, made his well-known renowned speech, on
the solemn opening of the Ilmenau mine, to which he
had invited all the officers and influential persons of the
£own and environs« He appeared to have had his
39% CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* t 1 ^ 1 '
speech well in his head; for he spoke for a long
while with perfect fluency, and without any hesitation.
All at once, however, he appeared to be quite forsaken
by his good genius ; the thread of his thoughts seemed
to be cut off, and he appeared quite to have lost the
power of grasping what he had further to say. This
Would have thrown any one else into great embarrass-»
ment, but it was not so with him. On the contrary,
he looked for at least ten minutes, steadily and quietly,
round the circle of his numerous audience, who were
so struck by his personal power, that during the very
long and almost ridiculous pause, every one remained
perfectly quiet. At last he appeared to have again
become master of his subject ; he went on with his
speech, and, without hesitation, continued it very ably
to the end, as unembarrassed and serene as if nothing
had happened.
Monday, May 2, 183 z.
Goethe delighted me with the information that he
had lately succeeded in almost finishing the fifth act of
u Faust," which had hitherto been wanting*
c< The purport of these scenes," said he, " is above
thirty years old ; it was of such importance that I
could not lose my interest in it, but so difficult to carry
out that it frightened me* By various arts I am now
in the right train again, and, if fortune favours, I shall
write off the fourth act at once/'
Goethe then mentioned a well-known author.
■ <c He is a talent," 6aid he, " to whom party-hatred
serves as an alliance, and who would have produced
no effect without it. We find frequent instances in
literature, where hatred supplies the place of genius*
1831«] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. $93
and where small talents appear important, by coming
forward as organs of a party. Thus too, in life, we
find a multitude of persons, who have not character
enough to stand alone ; these in the same way attach
themselves to a party, by which they feel themselves
strengthened, and can at last make some figure.
Sunday, May 15, 183 1.
Dined alone with Goethe in his work-room. After
much cheerful discourse he at last turned the conversa-
tion to his personal affairs, by rising and taking from
his desk a written paper.
" When one, like myself," said he, " has passed
the age of eighty, one has hardly a right to live, but
ought each day to hold oneself ready to be called away,
and think of setting one's house in order. I have, as
I lately told you, appointed you in my will editor
of my literary remains, and have this morning drawn
up, as a sort of contract, a little paper, which I wish
you to sign with me."
With these words, Goethe placed before me the
paper, in which I found mentioned by name the works,
both finished and unfinished, which were to be pub-
lished after his death. I had come to an understanding
with him upon essentials, and we both signed the
contract.
The material, which I had already from time to
time been busy in revising, I estimated at about fifteen
volumes. We then talked of certain matters of detail,
which had not been yet decided.
" The case may arise," said Goethe, " that the
publisher is unwilling to go beyond a certain number
394 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
of sheets, and that hence some part of the material
must be omitted. In that case, you may omit the
polemic part of my Q Theory of Colours/ My
peculiar doctrine is contained in the theoretical part ;
and as the historical part is already of a polemic
character, inasmuch as the leading errors of the
Newtonian theory are discussed there, you will almost
have polemics enough. I by no means disavow my
severe dissection of the Newtonian maxims ; it was
necessary at the time, and will also have its value
hereafter ; but, at bottom, all polemic action is repug-
nant to my proper nature, and I can take but little
pleasure in it."
We next talked about the " Maxims and Reflec-
tions/' which had been printed at the end of the
second and third volumes of the " Wanderjahre."
When he began to remodel and finish this novel,
which had previously appeared in one volume,*
Goethe intended to expand it into two, as indeed is
expressed in the announcement of the new edition of
his entire works. But, as the work progressed, the
manuscript grew beyond expectation ; and, as his
secretary wrote widely, Goethe was deceived, and
thought that he had enough not only for two but for
three volumes, and accordingly the manuscript went in
three volumes to the publishers. However, when the
printing had reached a certain point, it was found that
Goethe had made a miscalculation, and that the two
* Thii original shorter "Wanderjahre" is the one translated by Mr.
Carlyle, and inserted in his " Specimens of German Romance." The
larger novel, which appears in Goethe's collected works, has not, to my
knowledge, been translated.— Trans.
1831«] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 395
last volumes especially were too small. They sent for
more manuscript, and, as the course of the novel
(Roman) could not be altered, and it was impossible to
invent, write, and insert a new tale (Novelle) in the
hurry of the moment, Goethe was really in some
perplexity.
Under these circumstances he sent for me, told
me the state of the case, and mentioned at the same
time how he thought to help himself out of the diffi-
culty, laying before me two large bundles of manu-
script, which he had caused to be fetched for that
purpose.
" In these two parcels you will find various papers
hitherto unpublished, detached pieces, finished and
unfinished, opinions on natural science, art, literature,
and life, all mingled together. Suppose you were to
make up from these, six or eight printed sheets to fill
the gaps in my * Wanderjahre. ' Strictly speaking,
they have nothing to do with it, but the proceeding
may be justified by the fact that mention is made of an
archive in Makaria's house, in which such detached
pieces are preserved. Thus we shall not only get
over a great difficulty for the moment, but find a fitting
vehicle for sending a number of very interesting things
into the world."
I approved of the plan, set to work at once, and
completed the desired arrangement in a short time.
Goethe seemed well satisfied. I had put together the
whole in two principal parts, one under the title —
c< From Makaria's Archive ; " the other, under the
head — <c According to the Views of the Wanderer."
And as Goethe, at this time, had just finished two
396 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. E 1 ^ 1 *
important poems, one — " On Schiller's Skull," and the
other — " Kein Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen" (No
being can fall away to nothing), he was desirous to
bring out these also, and we added them at the close of
the two divisions.
But when the " Wanderjahre" came out, no one
knew what to make of it. The progress of the
romance was seen to be interrupted by a number of
enigmatical sayings, the explanation of which could
be expected only from men of certain departments,
such as artists, literati, and natural philosophers, and
which greatly annoyed all other readers, especially
those of the fair sex. Then, as for the two poems,
people could as little understand them as they could
guess how they got into such a place. Goethe laughed
at this.
" What is done is done," said he to-day, " and all
you have to do is, when you edit my literary remains,
to insert these things in their proper places, so that
when my works are republished, they may be distri-
buted in proper order, and the c Wanderjahre ' may
be reduced to two volumes, according to the original
intention."
We agreed that I should hereafter arrange all the
aphorisms relating to Art in a volume on subjects of
art, all relating to Nature in a volume on natural
science in general, and all the ethical and literary
maxims in a volume likewise adapted for them.
Wednesday, May 5, 1831.
We talked of " Wallenstein's Camp." I had often
heard that Goethe had assisted in the composition of
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 397
this piece, and, in particular, that the Capuchin sermon
came from him. To-day, at dinner, I asked him, and
he replied —
" At bottom, it is all Schiller's own work. But,
as we lived in such a relation that Schiller not only
told me his plan, and talked it over with me, but also
communicated what he did from day to day, hearing
and using my remarks, I may be said to have had some
share in it. For the Capuchin sermon, I sent him a
discourse, by Abraham a Sancta Clara, from which he
immediately composed his with great talent.
" I scarcely remember that any passages came from
me except the two lines —
* Ein Hauptmann den ein andrer erstach
Lie« mir ein paar glückliche Würfel nach.*
A captain, whom another slew,
Left me a pair of lucky dice.
Wishing to give some motive for the peasant's pos-
session of the false dice, I wrote down these lines
in the manuscript with my own hand. Schiller had
not troubled himself about that, but, in his bold way,
had given the peasant the dice without inquiring much
how he came by them. A careful linking together of
motives was, as I have said, not in his way ; whence,
perhaps, his pieces had so much the greater effect on
the stage."
Sunday, May 29, 183 z.
Goethe told me of a boy who could not console
himself after he had committed a trifling fault.
"I was sorry to observe this," said he, "for it
shows a too tender conscience, which values so highly
398 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [ l %3 l <
its own moral self that it will excuse nothing in it.
Such a conscience makes hypochondriacal men, if it is
not balanced by great activity."
A nest of young hedge-sparrows, with one of the old
birds, which had been caught with bird-lime, had lately
been brought me. I saw with admiration that the bird
not only continued to feed its young in my chamber,
but even, when set free through the window, returned
to them again. Such parental love, superior to danger
and imprisonment, moved me deeply, and I, to-day,
expressed my surprise to Goethe.
c< Foolish man ! " he replied, with a meaning smile ;
if you believed in God, you would not wonder.
cc
" ' Ihm ziemt's, die Welt im Innern zu bewegen,
Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur zu hegen,
So daas, was in Ihm lebt, und webt, und ist,
Nie Seine Kraft, nie Seinen Geist vermisst.'
He from within glories to move the world,
To foster Nature in Himself, Himself
In Nature, so that all that lives in Him
Is ne'er without His spirit and His strength.
" Did not God inspire the bird with this all-powerful
love for its young, and did not similar impulses per-
vade all animate nature, the world could not subsist.
But thus is the divine energy everywhere diffused, and
divine love everywhere active."
Goethe made a similar remark a short time ago,
when a model from Myron's cow, with the suckling
calf, was sent him by a young sculptor.
<c Here," said he, " we have a subject of the highest
sort — the nourishing principle which upholds the world,
and pervades all nature, is here brought before our
J83I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 399
eyes by a beautiful symbol. This, and similar images,
I call the true symbols of the omnipresence of God."
Monday, June 6, 183 1.
Goethe showed me to-day the beginning of the fifth
act of " Faust," which had hitherto been wanting. I
read to the place where the cottage of Philemon and
Baucis is burned, and Faust, standing by night on the
balcony of his palace, smells the smoke, which is borne
to him by a light breeze.
" These names, Philemon and Baucis," said I,
" transport me to the Phrygian coast, reminding me of
the famous couple of antiquity. But our scene belongs
to modern days, and a Christian landscape."
" My Philemon and Baucis," said Goethe, " have
nothing to do with that renowned ancient couple, and
the tradition connected with them. I gave this couple
the names merely to elevate the characters. The
persons and relations are similar, and hence the use of
the names has a good effect."
We then spoke of Faust, whom the hereditary por-
tion of his character — discontent — has not left even in
his old age, and who, amid all the treasures of the
world, and in a new dominion of his own making, is
annoyed by a couple of lindens, a cottage, and a bell,
which are not his. He is therein not unlike Ahab,
King of Israel, who fancied he possessed nothing, unless
he could also make the vineyard of Naboth his own.
" Faust," said Goethe, " when he appears in the
fifth act, should, according to my design, be exactly a
hundred years old, and I rather think it would be well
expressly to say so in some passage."
400 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, £1831.
We then spoke of the conclusion, and Goethe
directed my attention to the passage —
*' Delivered is the noble spirit *
From the control of evil powers ;
Who ceaselessly doth strive will merit
That we should save and make him ours ;
If Lowe celestial never cea§e
To watch him from its upper sphere ;
The children of eternal peace
Bear him to cordial welcome there.'*
" In these lines," said he, " is contained the key to
Faust's salvation. In Faust himself there is an activity
which becomes constantly higher and purer to the end,
and from above there is eternal love coming to his
aid. This harmonizes perfectly with our religious
views, according to which we cannot obtain heavenly
bliss through our own strength alone, but with the
assistance of divine grace.
" You will confess that the conclusion, where the
redeemed soul is carried up, was difficult to manage \
and that I, amid such supersensual matters, about
which we scarcely have even an intimation, might easily
have lost myself in the vague, if I had not, by means
of sharply-drawn figures, and images from the Chris-
tian church, given my poetical design a desirable form
and substance."
In the following weeks Goethe finished the fourth
act, which had yet been wanting ; so that in August
the whole second part was sewed together quite com-
plete. Goethe was extremely happy in having at last
* This is Mrs. Fuller's version, with a slight alteration.— Trans.
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 4OI
attained this object, towards which he had been striving
so long.
cc My remaining days," said he, <c I may now con-
sider a free gift ; and it is now, in fact, of little conse-
quence what I now do, or whether I do anything."
(Sop.) Sunday, June ao, 1 831.
This afternoon a short half hour at Goethe's, whom
I found still at dinner.
We conversed upon some subjects of natural science;
particularly upon the imperfection and insufficiency of
language, by which errors and false views which after-
wards could not easily be overcome were spread abroad«
" The case is simply this," said Goethe. " All lan-
guages have arisen from surrounding human necessities,
human occupations, and the general feelings and views
of man. If, now, a superior man gains an insight into
the secret operations of nature, the language which has
been handed down to him is not sufficient to express
anything so remote from human affairs. He ought
to have at command the language of spirits to express
adequately his peculiar perceptions. But as this is
not the case, he must, in his views of the extraor-
dinary in nature, always grasp at human expressions,
with which he almost always falls too short, lowering
his subject, or even injuring and destroying it."
" If you say this," said I, " you who always pursue
your subjects very closely, and, as an enemy to phrases,
can always find the most fitting expressions for your
higher perceptions, there is something in it. But I
should have thought that, generally, we Germans might
be contented. Our language is so extraordinarily rich,
VOL. n. D D
r
402 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. t 1 ^*'
elaborated, and capable of progress, that even if we are
obliged sometimes to have recourse to a trope, we can
still arrive pretty nearly at the proper expression. The
French are at a great disadvantage when compared
with us. With them the expression for some higher
view of nature by a trope, generally borrowed from a
technicality, is at once material and vulgar, so that it is
by no means adequate to a higher view."
" How right you are," said Goethe, " has appeared
to me lately, on the occasion of the dispute between
Cuvier and Geoffrey de St. Hilaire. Geoffrey de St.
Hilaire is a man who has certainly a great insight into
the spiritual workings of nature ; but his French lan-
guage, so far as he is constrained to use traditional
expressions, leaves him quite in the lurch. And this
not only in mysteriously spiritual, but also in visible,
purely corporeal subjects and relations. If he would
express the single parts of an organic being, he has no
other word but Materialien: thus, for instance, the
bones, which, as homogeneous parts, form the organic
whole of an arm, are placed upon the same scale
of expression as the stones and planks with which a
house is built.
" In the same inappropriate manner," continued
Goethe, "the French use the expression composition^
in speaking of the productions of nature. I can cer^
tainly put together the individual parts of a machine
made of separate pieces, and, upon such a subject,
speak of a composition ; but not when I have in my
mind the individual parts of an organic whole, which
produce themselves with life, and are pervaded by a.
common soul."
1 83 1.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE* 403
" It appears to me," added I, " that the expres-
sion composition is also inappropriate and degrading to
genuine productions of art and poetry."
"It is a thoroughly contemptible word," returned
Goethe, " for which we have to thank the French,
and of which we should endeavour to rid ourselves as
soon as possible. How can one say, Mozart has
composed (componiit) Don Juan ! Composition \ As
if it were a piece of cake or biscuit, which had been
stirred together out of eggs, flour, and sugar! It
is a spiritual creation, in which the details, as well as
the whole, are pervaded by one spirit, and by the breath
of one life ; so that the producer did not make experi-
ments, and patch together, and follow his own caprice,
but was altogether in the power of the daemonic spirit
of his genius, and acted according to his orders."
(Sup.*) Sunday, July 27, 183 1.
We spoke of Victor Hugo. " He is a fine talent,"
said Goethe, " but quite entangled in the unhappy
romantic tendency of his time, by which he is seduced
to represent, together with what is beautiful, also that
which is most insupportable and hideous. I have
lately been reading his * Notre Dame de Paris,' and
required no little patience to support the horror with
which this reading has inspired me. It is the most
abominable book that ever was written ! Besides, one
is not even indemnified for the torture one has to
endure by the pleasure one might receive from a truth-
ful representation of human nature or human character.
His book is, on the contrary, utterly destitute of nature
and truth ! The so-called acting personages whom he
D D 2
404 CONVERSATION« OF GOETHE. [^K
brings forward are not human beings with living flesh
and blood, but miserable wooden puppets, which he
deals with as he pleases, and which he causes to make
all sorts of contortions and grimaces just as he needs
them for his desired effects. But what an age it must
be which not only renders such a book possible, and
calls it into existence, but even finds it endurable and
delightful."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, July 14, 1-831.
I and the Prince accompanied his majesty, the King
of Wurtemburg, to Goethe's. On our return the
king appeared much pleased, and deputed me to con-
vey his thanks to Goethe, for the pleasure this visit
had given him.
(Sup.*) Thunday, July 15, 1831.
A moment with Goethe, when I executed my yes-
terday's commission from the king. I found him
occupied in studies relative to the spiral tendency of
plants ; of which new discovery his opinion is, that it
will be carried a great way, and that it will exercise a
great influence upon science. " There is nothing,"
said he, a beyond the pleasure which the study of
nature produces. Her secrets are of unfathomable
depth, but it is granted to us men to look into them
more and more ; and the very fact that she remains
unfathomable at last perpetually charms us to approach
her again and again, and ever to seek for new lights
and new discoveries."
(Sup.*) Tuesday, July so> 183 t.
After dinner, a short half hour with Goethe, whom
I found in a very cheerful, mud humour. He spoke
i
183I.3 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 405
of various things, at last of Carlsbad ; and he joked
about the various love affairs which he had experienced
there. u A little passion," said he, u is the only thing
which can render a watering-place supportable ; with-
out it, one dies of ennui. I was almost always lucky
enough to find there some little * elective affinity*
(Wahlverwandtschaft)^ which entertained me during the
few weeks. I recollect one circumstance in particular,
which even now gives me pleasure.
iC I one day visited Frau von Reck. After a
commonplace chat, I had taken my leave, and met,
as I went out, a lady, with two very pretty young girls.
c Who was that gentleman who just now left you ? '
asked the lady. * It was Goethe,' answered Frau von
Reck. c Oh, how I regret,' returned the lady * that
he did not stay, and that I have not had the happi-
ness of making his acquaintance ! * ( You have lost
nothing by it, my dear,' said Frau von Reck. i He is
very dull amongst ladies, unless they are pretty enough
to inspire him with some interest. Ladies of our age
must not expect to make him talkative or amiable. 9
"When the two young ladies left the house with
their mother, they thought of Frau von Reek's words.
4 We are young, we are pretty/ said they, * let us see
if we cannot succeed in captivating and taming this
renowned savage !' The pext morning, on the pro-
menade by the Sprudel, they made me, in passing,
the most graceful and amiable salutations, and I
could not forbear taking the opportunity of approach-
ing and accosting them. They were charming ! I
spoke to them again and again, they led me to their
mother, and so I was caught. From that time we
406 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, { l ^3 J *
saw each other daily, nay, we spent whole days to-
gether. In order to make our connection more inti-
mate, it happened that the betrothed of the one arrived,
when I devoted myself more exclusively to the other.
I was also very amiable to the mother, as may be
imagined ; in fact, we were all thoroughly pleased with
one another, and I spent so many happy days with
this family, that the recollection of them is even now
highly agreeable. The two girls soon related to me the
conversation between their mother and Frau von Reck,
describing the conspiracy which they had contrived for
my conquest, and brought to a fortunate issue."
An anecdote of another kind occurs to me, which
Goethe had related to me before, but which may find
a place here.
cc I was once walking," said he, " towards evening,
in the castle garden with a friend, when, at the end of
an avenue, we unexpectedly remarked two other per-
sons of our circle, who were walking in quiet conver-
sation with one another. I cannot name either the
lady or the gentleman ; but that is not to the purpose.
They conversed, and appeared to think of nothing, —
when, suddenly, their heads inclined towards each
other, and they exchanged a hearty kiss. They then
resumed their former direction, and continued their
conversation as if nothing had happened. ' Did you
see it?' exclaimed my friend, full of astonishment;
c may I believe my eyes ? ' c I did see it,' returned I,
quietly, * but I do not believe it.' "
(Sup.*) Monday, August 2, 1 83 1.
We spoke of the metamorphosis of plants, and
i
183I.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 407
«specially of Decandolle's doctrine of symmetry, which
Goethe considers a mere delusion.
" Nature," added he, " does not reveal herself to
every one. On the contrary, she deports herself
towards many like a young tantalizing girl, who allures
us by a thousand charms, but at the moment when we
expect to seize her and to possess her, slips from our
arms."
(Sup.*) Wednesday, October 19, 183 1.
The meeting of the society for the promotion of
agriculture was held to-day at Belvidere. We had also
the first exposition of products and objects of indus-
try, which was richer than had been expected. Then
there was a great dinner of the numerous assembled
members. Goethe joined them, to the joyful surprise
of all present. He remained some time, and surveyed
the objects exhibited with evident interest. His
appearance made a most agreeable impression, espe-
cially upon those who had not seen him before.
(Sup.) Thursday, December 1, 1831.
Passed a short hour with Goethe, in varied conver-
sation. We then came to Soret.
" I have lately been reading a very pretty poem of
his," said Goethe, " a trilogy, — the first two parts of
which possess an agreeable rusticity, but the last,
under the title ' Midnight,' bears a sombre character.
In this ' Midnight' he has succeeded. In reading
it, one actually breathes the breath of night j almost as
in the pictures of Rembrandt, in which one also seems
to feel the night-air. Victor Hugo has treated similar
subjects, but not with such felicity. In the nocturnal
408 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [^I.
scenes of this indisputably great man, it is never
actually night; on the contrary, the subjects remain
always as distinct and visible as if it were still day, and
the represented night were merely a deception. Soret
has, unquestionably, surpassed the renowned Victor
Hugo, in his « Midnight' "
I was pleased at this commendation, and resolved to
read the said trilogy, by Soret, as soon as possible.
" We possess, in our literature, very few trilogies,"
remarked I.
<c This form," returned Goethe, " is very rare
amongst the moderns generally. It sometimes hap-
pens that one finds a subject which seems naturally to
demand a treatment in three parts ; so that in the first
there is a sort of introduction, in the second a sort of
catastrophe, and in the third a satisfying denouement.
In my poem of c The Youth and the Fair Miller,'
these requisites are found, although when I wrote it
I by no means thought of making a trilogy. My
< Paria,' also, is a perfect trilogy ; and, indeed, it was a
trilogy that I intentionally treated this cycle. My
c Trilogie der Leidenschaft' (Trilogy of Passion), as it
is called, was, on the contrary, not originally conceived
as a trilogy, but became a trilogy gradually, and to a
certain extent incidentally. At first, as you know,
I had merely the elegy, as an independent poem.
Then Madame Szimanow6ka, who had been at
Marienbad with me that summer, visited me, and,
by her charming melodies, awoke in me the echo of
those youthful happy days. The strophes which I
dedicated to this fair friend, are therefore written quite
in the metre and tone of the elegy, and suit very well
1831*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 409
as a satisfactory conclusion« Then Weygand wished
to prepare a new edition of my ' Weither,' and asked
me for a preface ; which to me was a very welcome
occasion to write * My Poem to Weither.' But as I
had still a remnant of that passion in my heart, the
poem as it were formed itself into an introduction
to the elegy. Thus it happened that all the three
poems which now stand together are pervaded by the
same love-sick feeling ; and the ( Trilogie der Leiden-
schaft' formed itself I knew not how.
" I have advised Soret to write more trilogies ; and,
indeed, he should do it as I have described. He
should not take the trouble to seek a particular subject
for a trilogy, but should rather select, from the rich
store of his unprinted poems, one that is especially
pregnant with meaning, and, when occasion offers, add
a sort of introduction, and conclusion, yet still so that
the three productions are separated by a perceptible
gap. In this manner one attains one's end far more
easily, and spares oneself much thinking, which is
notoriously, as Meyer says, a very difficult thing."
We then spoke of Victor Hugo, remarking that his
too great fertility had been highly prejudicial to his talent.
*< How can a writer help growing worse, and destroy-
ing the finest talent in the world," said Goethe, " if he
has the audacity to write in a single year two tragedies
and a novel; and further, when he only appears to
work in order to scrape together immense sums of
money. I do not blame him for trying to become
rich, and to earn present renown j but if he intends to
live long in futurity, he must begin to write less and
to work more."
410 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [183I.
Goethe then went through " Marie de Lorme," and
endeavoured to make it clear to me that the subject
only contained sufficient material to make one single
good and really tragical act ; but that the author had
allowed himself, by considerations of quite a secondary
nature, to be misled into stretching out his subject to
five long acts. " Under these circumstances," said
Goethe, " we have merely the advantage of seeing that
the poet is great in the representation of details, which
certainly is something, and that no trifle."
Wednesday, December 21, 183 1.
Dined with Goethe. We talked of the reason why
his " Theory of Colours" had been so little diffused.
" It is very hard to communicate," said he, " for,
as you know, it requires not only to be read and
studied, but to be done, and this is difficult. The laws
of poetry and painting may likewise be communicated
to a certain extent ; but to be a good poet and painter
genius is required, which is not to be communicated.
To receive a simple, primitive phenomenon, to recog-
nise it in its high significance, and to go to work with
it, requires a productive spirit, which is able to take a
wide survey, and is a rare gift only to be found in vfery
superior natures.
<c And even this is not enough. For, as with every
rule, and with all genius, one is yet no painter, but
still requires uninterrupted practice, so with the
c Theory of Colours' it is not enough for one to
know the chief laws and have a suitable mind, but
it is necessary to occupy oneself constantly with the
several single phenomena, which are often very
1831.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 4II
mysterious, and with their deductions and combina-
tions.
" Thus, for instance, we know well enough the
general proposition that a green colour is produced by
a mixture of yellow and blue ; but before a person can
say that he comprehends the green of the rainbow, or
of foliage, or of sea-water, there will be requisite a
thorough investigation of the whole region of colour,
with a consequent acme of acuteness, which scarcely
any one has yet attained."
After dinner, we looked at some landscapes by
Poussin.
" Those places," observed Goethe, " on which the
painter throws the principal light, do not admit of
detail in the execution ; and therefore water, masses of
rock, bare ground, and buildings, are most suitable
subjects to bear the principal light. Things, on the
contrary, which require more detail in the drawing
cannot well be used by the artist in those light places.
" A landscape-painter," continued Goethe, " should
possess various sorts of knowledge. It is not enough
for him to understand perspective, architecture, and
the anatomy of men and animals ; he must also have
some insight into botany and mineralogy, that he may
know how to express properly the characteristics of
trees, plants, and the character of the different sorts
of mountains. It is not, indeed, necessary that he
should be an accomplished mineralogist, since he has
to do chiefly with lime, slate, and sandstone mountains,
and only needs know in what forms they lie, how they
are acted upon by the atmosphere, and what sort of
trees thrive, and are stunted upon them."
412 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1831.
He showed me then some landscapes, by Hermann
von Schwanefeld, making various remarks upon the
art and personality of that eminent man.
u We find in him," said he, " art and inclination
more completely identified than in any other. He has
a deep love for nature, and a divine tranquillity, which
communicates itself to us when we look upon his
pictures. He was born in the Netherlands, and
studied at Rome, under Claude Lorraine. On this
master he formed himself to the highest degree of per-
fection, and developed his fine capacities in the freest
manner."
We looked into an " Artist's Lexicon," to see what
was said of Hermann von Schwanefeld, and found him
censured for not equalling his master.
" The fools ! " said Goethe 5 " Von Schwanefeld
was a different man from Claude Lorraine, and the
latter could not boast of being the better of the two.
If there were nothing more in one's life than is told by
our biographers and lexicon writers, it would be a bad
business, not worth the trouble it costs."
At the close of this, and in the beginning of the
next year, Goethe turned again to his favourite studies,
the natural sciences. At the suggestion of Boisse-
ree, he occupied himself with deeper inquiries into the
laws of the rainbow ; and also, from sympathy with the
dispute between Cuvier and St. Hilaire, with subjects
referring to the metamorphoses of the plant and animal
world. He, likewise, revised with me the historical
part of the " Theory of Colours," taking also lively
interest in a chapter on the blending of colours, which
1831*] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 413
I, by his desire, was arranging to be inserted in the
theoretical volume.
During this time, there was no lack of interesting
conversation between us, or of valuable utterances on
his side. But, as he was daily before my eyes, fresh
and energetic as ever, I fancied this must always be the
case, and was too careless of recording his words till it
was too late, and, on the 22nd March 1832,1, with
thousands of noble Germans, had to weep for his
irreparable loss.
CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE.
1832.
1832.
(Sup.*) Thursday, January 5, 1832.
Some new pen-and-ink sketches and water-colour
drawings had arrived from my friend Töpfer, in
Geneva ; the greater part of them were views in
Switzerland and Italy, which he had collected during
his pedestrian tour. Goethe was so much struck with
the beauty of the sketches — particularly those in water-
colour — that he said it appeared to him as if he were
looking at the works of the renowned Lory, I
remarked that these were by no means Töpfer's best,
and that he could send something very different.
" I do not know what you would have," returned
Goethe. " And what would it be even if something
were better ! As soon as an artist has attained a
certain height of excellence, it is tolerably indifferent
whether one of his works turns out a degree more
perfect than another. The connoisseur still sees in all
the hand of the master, and the whole extent of his
talent and his means."
(Sup.*) Friday, February 17, 1832.
I had sent Goethe a portrait of Dumont, which
VOL. II. £ £
418 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
had been engraved in England, and which appeared to
interest him very much.
" I have repeatedly examined the portrait of this
remarkable man," said Goethe, when I visited him
this evening. " At first I found something repulsive
in it, which, however, I would have attributed to
the treatment of the artist, who had cut the lines a
little too deep and hard. But the longer I looked at
this highly remarkable head, the more did all hardness
disappear, and from the dark ground there came forth
a beautiful expression of repose, goodness, and mild-
ness blended with acuteness,* so characteristic of the
clever, benevolent man, ever active for the general
good, and so refreshing to the mind of the spectator."
We then spoke further of Dumont ; particularly
of the memoirs which he wrote with reference to
Mirabeau, and in which he reveals the various
expedients which Mirabeau had contrived to employ,
and also mentions by name many persons of talent
whom he had set in motion for his purposes, and with
whose powers he had worked.
" I know no more instructive book," said Goethe,
" than these memoirs ; by means of which we get an
insight into the most secret recesses of that time, and
by means of which the wonder Mirabeau becomes
natural to us, while, at the same time, the hero loses
nothing of his greatness. But now we have the latest
critics of the French journals, who think a little
differently on this point. These good folks think that
the author of these memoirs wants to spoil their
* " Mildness blended with refined acuteness," is intended as a mere
approximation to the untranslatable " Geistreich-feine Milde." — Trans.
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 419
Mirabeau, because he unveils the secret of his super-
human activity, and allows other people a share in the
great merit which, until now, the name of Mirabeau
had monopolized.
" The French look upon Mirabeau as their Hercules
— and they are perfectly right. But they forget that
even the Colossus consists of individual parts, and that
even the Hercules of antiquity is a collective being — a
great supporter of his own deeds and the deeds of
others.
" But, in fact, we are all collective beings, let us
place ourselves as we may. For how little have we,
and are we, that we can strictly call our own pro-
perty ? We must all receive and learn both from
those who were before us, and from those who are
with us. Even the greatest genius would not go far if
he tried to owe everything to his own internal self.
But many very good men do not comprehend that;
and they grope in darkness for half a life, with their
dreams of originality. I have known artists who
boasted of having followed no master, and of having to
thank their own genius for everything. Fools ! as if
that were possible at all ; and as if the world would
not force itself upon them at every step, and make
something of them in spite of their own stupidity.
Yes, I maintain that if such an artist were only to
survey the walls of this room, and cast only a passing
glance at the sketches of some great masters, with
which they are hung, he would necessarily, if he had
any genius at all, quit this place another and a higher
man. And, indeed, what is there good in us, if it is
not the power and the inclination to appropriate to our-
E E 2
420 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
selves the resources of the outward world, and to make
them subservient to our higher ends. I may speak
of myself, and may modestly say what I feel. It is
true that, in my long life, I have done and achieved
many things of which I might certainly boast. But to
speak the honest truth, what had I that was properly
my own, besides the ability and the inclination to see
and to hear, to distinguish and to choose, and to
enliven with, some mind what I had seen and heard,
and to reproduce with some degree of skill. I by no
means owe my works to my own wisdom alone, but to
a thousand things and persons around me, who pro-
vided me with material. There were fools and sages,
minds enlightened and narrow, childhood, youth, and
mature age — all told me what they felt, what they
thought, how they lived and worked, and what expe-
riences they had gained ; and I had nothing further to
do than to put out my hand and reap what others had
sown for me.
" It is, in fact, utter folly to ask whether a person
has anything from himself, or whether he has it from
others ; whether he operates by himself, or operates by
means of others. The main point is to have a great
will, and skill and perseverance to carry it out. All
else is indifferent. Mirabeau was therefore perfectly
right, when he made what use he could of the outer
world and its forces. He possessed the gift of distin-
guishing talent ; and talent felt itself attracted by the
demon of his powerful nature, so that it willingly
yielded itself to him and his guidance. Thus he was
surrounded by a mass of distinguished forces, which he
inspired with his ardour, and set in activity for his own
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 42 1
higher aims. This very peculiarity, that he understood
how to act with others and by others, — this was his
genius — this was his originality — this was his great-
ness."
(Sup.) Sunday, March 11, 1832.
This evening for an hour with Goethe, talking of
various interesting subjects. I had bought an English
Bible, in which I found, to my great regret, that the
apocryphal books were not contained. They had
been rejected, because they were not considered
genuine and of divine origin. I greatly missed the
noble Tobias, that model of a pious life* the Wis-
dom of Solomon, and Jesus Sirach, — all writings of
such high mental and moral elevation, that few others
equal them. I spoke to Goethe of my regret at the
very narrow view by which some of the writings of
the Old Testament are looked upon as immediately
proceeding from God ; while others, equally excellent,
are not so. As if there could be anything noble and
great which did not proceed from God, and which was
not a fruit of his influence.
" I am thoroughly of your opinion," returned
Goethe. " Still, there are two points of view from
which biblical subjects may be contemplated. There
is the point of view of a sort of primitive religion, of
pure nature and reason, which is of divine origin.
This will always be the same, and will last and prevail
as long as divinely endowed beings exist. It is, how-
ever, only for the elect, and is far too high and noble
to become universal. Then there is the point of view
of the Church, which is of a more human nature. This
is defective and subject to change 3 but it will last, in a
422 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
state of perpetual change, as long as there are weak
human beings. The light of unclouded divine revela-
tion is far too pure and brilliant to be suitable and
supportable to poor weak man. But the Church steps
in as a useful mediator, to soften and to moderate,
by which all are helped, and many are benefited.
Through the belief that the Christian Church, as the
successor of Christ, can remove the burden of human
sin, it is a very great power. To maintain themselves
in this power and in this importance, and thus to secure
the ecclesiastical edifice, is the chief aim of the christian
priesthood.
" This priesthood, therefore, does not so much
ask whether this or that book in the Bible greatly
enlightens the mind, and contains doctrines of high
morality and noble human nature. It rather looks
upon the books of Moses, with reference to the fell of
man and the origin of a necessity for a Redeemer ; it
searches the prophets for repeated allusions to Him,
the Expected One, and regards, in the Gospels, His
actual earthly appearance, and His death upon the
cross, as the atonement for our human sins. You see,
therefore, that for such purposes, and weighed in such
a balance, neither the noble Tobias, nor the Wisdom
of Solomon, nor the sayings of Sirach, can have much
weight. Still, with reference to things in the Bible,
the question whether they are genuine or spurious is
odd enough. What is genuine but that which is truly
excellent, which stands in harmony with the purest
nature and reason, and which even now ministers to
our highest development ! What is spurious but the
absurd and the hollow, which brings no fruit — at least,
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 423
no good fruit ! If the authenticity of a biblical book is
to be decided by the question, — whether something
true throughout has been handed down to us, we
might on some points doubt the authenticity of the
Gospels, since those of Mark and Luke were not
written from immediate presence and experience, but,
according to oral tradition, long afterwards ; and the
last, by the disciple John, was not written till he
was of a very advanced age. Nevertheless, I look
upon all the four Gospels as thoroughly genuine ; for
there is in them the reflection of a greatness which
emanated from the person of Jesus, and which was of
as divine a kind as ever was seen upon earth. If I
am asked whether it is in my nature to pay Him
devout reverence, I say — certainly ! I bow before
Him as the divine manifestation of the highest prin-
ciple of morality. If I am asked whether it is in my
nature to revere the Sun, 1 again say — certainly ! For
he is likewise a manifestation of the highest Being, and
indeed the most powerful which we children of earth
are allowed to behold. I adore in him the light and the
productive power of God j by which we all live, move,
and have our being — we, and all the plants and animals
with us. But if I am asked — whether I am inclined to
bow before a thumb-bone of the apostle Peter or Paul, I
say — * Spare me, and stand off with your absurdities ! *
" * Quench not the spirit/ says the Apostle. There
are many absurdities in the propositions of the
Church ; nevertheless, rule it will, and so it must have
a narrow-minded multitude, which bows its head and
likes to be ruled. The high and richly-endowed clergy
dread nothing more than the enlightenment of the
424 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
lower orders. They withheld the Bible from them as
long as it was possible. Besides, what can a poor
member of the Christian Church think of the princely
magnificence of a richly-endowed bishop, when he sees
in the Gospels the poverty and indigence of Christ,
who, with his disciples, travelled humbly on foot,
whilst the princely bishop rattles along in his carriage
drawn by six horses ! *'
" We scarcely know," continued Goethe, cc what
we owe to Luther, and the Reformation in general.
We are freed from the fetters of spiritual narrow-
mindedness ; we have, in consequence of our increas-
ing culture, become capable of turning back to the
fountain head, and of comprehending Christianity in its
purity. We have, again, the courage to stand with
firm feet upon God's earth, and to feel ourselves in
our divinely-endowed human nature. Let mental cul-
ture go on advancing, let the natural sciences go on
gaining in depth and breadth, and the human mind
expand as it may, it will never go beyond the elevation
and moral culture of Christianity as it glistens and
shines forth in the Gospel !
" But the better we Protestants advance in our noble
development, so much the more rapidly will the
Catholics follow us. As soon as they feel themselves
caught up by the ever-extending enlightenment of the
time, they must go on, do what they will, till at last
the point is reached where all is but one.
" The mischievous sectarianism of the Protestants
will also cease, and with it the hatred and hostile feel-
ing between father and son, sister and brother ; for as
soon as the pure doctrine and love of Christ are com-
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 425
prehended in their true nature, and have become a vital
principle, we shall feel ourselves as human beings,
great and free, and not attach especial importance to
a degree more or less in the outward forms of reli-
gion. Besides, we shall all gradually advance from a
Christianity of words and faith, to a Christianity of
feeling and action."
The conversation turned upon the great men who
had lived before Christ, among the Chinese, the Indians,
the Persians, and the Greeks ; and it was remarked,
that the divine power had been as operative in them as
in some of the great Jews of the Old Testament.
We then came to the question how far God influenced
the great natures of the present world in which we
live ?
" To hear people speak," said Goethe, " one
would almost believe that they were of opinion that
God had withdrawn into silence since those old times,
and that man was now placed quite upon his own feet,
and had to see how he could get on without God, and
his daily invisible breath. In religious and moral
matters, a divine influence is indeed still allowed, but
in matters of science and art it is believed that they
are merely earthy, and nothing but the product of
human powers.
" Let any one only try, with human will and human
power, to produce something which may be compared
with the creations that bear the names of Mozart y
Raphael^ or Shakspeare. I know very well that these
three noble beings are not the only ones, and that in
every province of art innumerable excellent geniuses
have operated, who have produced things as perfectly
426 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE, [1832.
good as those just mentioned. But if they were as
great as those, they rose above ordinary human nature,
and in the same proportion were as divinely endowed
as they.
" And after all what does it all come to ? God did
not retire to rest after the well-known six days of
creation, but, on the contrary, is constantly active as
on the first. It would have been for Him a poor
occupation to compose this heavy world out of simple
elements, and to keep it rolling in the sunbeams from
year to year, if he had not had the plan of founding a
nursery for a world of spirits upon this material basis.
So he is now constantly active in higher natures to
attract the lower ones."
Goethe was silent. But I cherished his great and
good words in my heart.
Early in March 183z.*
Goethe mentioned at table that he had received a
visit from Baron Carl Von Spiegel, and that he had
been pleased with him beyond measure.
" He is a very fine young man," said Goethe ; " in
his mien and manners he has something by which the
nobleman is seen at once. He could as little dissemble
his descent as any one could deny a higher intellect ; for
birth and intellect both give to him who once possesses
them a stamp which no incognito can conceal. Like
beauty, these are powers which one cannot approach
without feeling that they are of a higher nature."
* In the original book this conversation follows immediately the one
of December 21, 1831, and with the remainder of the book Is prefaced
thus:— "The following I noted down shortly afterwards (that is, after
they took place) from memory."' — Trans,
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 427
Some days later.
We talked of the tragic idea of Destiny among the
Greeks.
" It no longer suits our way of thinking," said
Goethe j " it is obsolete, and is also in contradiction
with our religious views. If a modern poet introduces
such antique ideas into a drama, it always has an air of
affectation. It is a costume which is long since out of
fashion, and which, like the Roman toga, no longer
suits us.
" It is better for us moderns to say with Napoleon,
4 Politics are Destiny.' But let us beware of saying,
with our latest literati, that politics are poetry, or a
suitable subject for the poet. The English poet
Thomson wrote a very good poem on the Seasons,
but a very bad one on Liberty, and that not from want
of poetry in the poet, but from want of poetry in the
subject."
"If a poet would work politically, he must give
himself up to a party ; and so soon as he does that, he
is lost as a poet ; he must bid farewell to his free spirit,
his unbiassed view, and draw over his ears the cap of
bigotry and blind hatred.
"The poet, as a man and citizen, will love his
native land ; but the native land of his poetic powers
and poetic action is the good, noble, and beautiful,
which is confined to no particular province or country,
and which he seizes upon, and forms wherever he finds
it. Therein is he like the eagle, who hovers with free
gaze over whole countries, and to whom it is of no
consequence whether the hare on which he pounces
is running in Prussia or in Saxony.
428 CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
" And, then, what is meant by love of one's country ?
what is meant by patriotic deeds? If the poet has
employed a life in battling with pernicious prejudices,
in setting aside narrow views, in enlightening the
minds, purifying the tastes, ennobling the feelings and
thoughts of his countrymen, what better could he
have done ? how could he have acted more patrioti-
cally ?
" To make such ungrateful and unsuitable demands
upon a poet is just as if one required the captain of a
regiment to show himself a patriot, by taking part in
political innovations, and thus neglect his proper call-
ing. The captain's country is his regiment, and he
will show himself an excellent patriot by troubling
himself about political matters only so far as they con-
cern him, and bestowing all his mind and all his care
on the battalions under him, trying so to train and
discipline them, that they may do their duty if ever
their native land should be in peril.
" I hate all bungling like sin ; but, most of all,
bungling in state-affairs, which produces nothing but
mischief to thousands and millions.
" You know that, on the whole, I .care little what
is written about me ; but yet it comes to my ears, and
I know well enough that, hard as I have toiled all my
life, all my labours are as nothing in the eyes of certain
people, just because I have disdained to mingle in
political parties. To please, such people I must have
become a member of a Jacobin club, and preached
bloodshed and murder. However, not a word more
upon this wretched subject, lest I become unwise in
railing against folly."
1832.] CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. 429
In the same manner he blamed the political course,
so much praised by others, of Unland.
"Mind," said he, "the politician will devour the
poet. To be a member of the States, and to live
amid daily jostlings and excitements, is not for the
delicate nature of a poet. His song will cease, and
that is in some sort to be lamented. Swabia has plenty
of men, sufficiently well educated, well meaning, able,
and eloquent, to be members of the States, but only
one poet of Uhland's class."
The last stranger whom Goethe entertained as his
guest, was the eldest son of Frau von Arnim ; the last
words he wrote were some verses in the album of this
young friend.
The morning after Goethe's death, a deep desire
seized me to look once again upon his earthly gar-
ment. His faithful servant, Frederic, opened for me
the chamber in which he was laid out. Stretched upon
his back, he reposed as if asleep ; profound peace
and security reigned in the features of his sublimely
noble countenance. The mighty brow seemed yet to
harbour thoughts. I wished for a lock of his hair;
but reverence prevented me from cutting it off. The
body lay naked, only wrapped in a white sheet ; large
pieces of ice had been placed near it, to keep it fresh as
long as possible. Frederic drew aside the sheet, and I
was astonished at the divine magnificence of the limbs.
The breast was powerful, broad, and arched ; the arms
and thighs were full, and softly muscular; the feet
were elegant, and of the most perfect shape ; nowhere,
43° CONVERSATIONS OF GOETHE. [1832.
on the whole body, was there a trace either of fat or of
leanness and decay. A perfect man lay in great beauty
before me ; and the rapture which the sight caused
made me forget for a moment that the immortal spirit
had left such an abode. I laid my hand on his heart —
there was a deep silence — and I turned away to give
free vent to my suppressed tears.
THE END.
INDEX.
*PI^W*P
INDEX.
Academies, vol. i. page 129
Actors, Goethe's school for, i.
162
■ method of testing their ca-
pabilities, i. 228
studies necessary for per-
sonating a Greek hero, i. 380
Actions, right and wrong, results
of, i. 273.
Advice, remark by Goethe on, ii.
334 , .
" Alexis and Dora," by Goethe, 1.
274
Ampere, Mons. J. J. — his notice of
Stopfer's translation of Goethe's
dramatic works, i. 405
» Goethe's praises of him,
i. 412
Angoul&me, Due d', i. 132
Antiquity, worship of, i. 316
Aristotle, remark by Goethe on,
ii. 71
Art, modern, i. 86
the sensual and ideal in, ii.
123
— Meyer's history of, i. 10 1
Arts, method of cultivating a taste
for, i. 137
Artists, religion of, i. 160
relation to nature, i. 401
■ representation of surround-
ing objects by, i. 268
young German, origin of
their errors, ii. 380
VOL. II.
Artistic madness, anecdote of, ii.
191
" Aufgeregten Die," by Goethe, i.
120
B
" Ballad, The," by Goethe, ii. 112
Bavaria, King of — his letter to
Goethe, ii. 168
Beauty, definition of, i. 394
favourable circumstances
necessary for its development,
i. 396
Beaumarchais, " Memoirs " of, ii.
Beehr isch, his definition of expe-
rience, ii. 214
anecdotes of him, ii. 215
Beranger, his imprisonment, ii. 150
■ his personality, ii. 254
■ his political poems, ii. 255
— — — — poems of, i. 315, 343
chansons de, i. 350
his perfection attributable
to the influence of his birth-
place, i. 408
his political and love
songs, 1. 411
Bible, apocryphal books of the,
ii. 421
Blucher, his liking to speak, ii.
172
Blumenbach, appearance and man«
ners of, i. 40.
F F
434
INDEX.
Bonaparte, Napoleon, i. 152, 287,
324, 325 5 11. 40, 43, 159
— his campaign in Egypt,
ii. 165, 166
— — — his impulse to speak,
11. 17z
his fate, ii. 228
— — — his example, ii. 377
" Book of Ill-Humour," by Goethe
— state of mind in which he
wrote it, i. 119
Bourrienne, his account of Napo-
leon's campaign in Russia, ii.
165
Bows and arrows, manufacture of,
i. 25 1, et seq.
Brandt of Berlin, a medal by him,
i. 130
«Bride of Corinth," by Goethe,
ii. 250
u Buch, Herr von," ii. 130
" Bürger- general," by Goethe, ii.
112
Bürger, i. 264
Burns, i. 410
Byron, Lord, his tragedies, i. 50
1 Goethe's opinion of, i. 73
— — his " Cain," i. 129, 419
— remarks on, i. 140, 171, 108
Goethe's admiration for
him, i. 205
— his character, i. 207, et seq.
— compared with Shakspeare,
Goethe's opinion of, i. 290,
294
" Two Foscari," i. 29 1, 424
— — — remarks on, ii. 5 1
his esteem for Voltaire, ii.
116
— his power
himself, ii. 253
of renouncing
«« Cain,'* by Byron—Goethe's cri-
tique upon, i. 129, 419
Calderon, i. 262, 292
Campe, his speech to Goethe, ii. 275
Canning, speech of, i. 313
Capo d' Istria, Goethe's prophecy
concerning, ii. 148
Caracci, the, ii. 189
Carlyle, Mr. Thomas, i. 441 } ii. 86
Catholics, great influence of, iL 155
Chancellor, the, i. 86
Charles the Tenth — Goethe's re-
marks on his head, ii. 328
Change required, law of, i. 356
Chlorine, i. 40
Chinese novel, i. 349
Chodowiecky, i. 77
Christianity independent of philo-
sophy, ii. 121
Chrisdan priesthood, ii. 422
Church, the, ii. 421-2
— — — propositions of, ii. 423
Claude Lorraine, ii. 176, 183, 188,
412
Colours, Goethe's theory of, ex-
plained, i. 51, 109, 120, 161,
302, 304, 355, 365 5 ii. 229,
373» 4IO
__ _____ ex-
periments relating to it, i. 73
Conjuring tricks, ii. 329
Conscience, tender, ii. 397
Coudray, ii. 127
— — his remarks on road-mak-
ing, ii. 152
Cousin, Victor, ii. 133, 149, 224
Courier, Paul Louis, ii. 378
Critic, qualifications of a, i. 183
" Critique on the Power of Judg-
ment," by Kant, i. 393
Cuckoo, the, popular prejudices
concerning, ii. 25
Culture, effects of, upon young
minds, ii. 192
Cuvier, ii. 224
Cycle of biblical figures, design for,
ii. 263, 273
D* Alton, i. 230
Dante, i. 184
« Daphnis and Chloe," Courier's
translation of, ii. 364
I
INDEX.
435
«Daphnis and Ghloe»" Goethe's
opinion of, ii. 375, 377
David, ii. 24.7, 249
" Deformed Transformed, The,"
by Byron, i. 294, 296
" Demanded Colour," ii. 174.
■ Goethe's theory of, ii.
Daemonic, the — definition of y ii.
359» 36a, 374
« Descent of Christ into Hell," by
Goethe, i. 287
" Dichtung und Wahrung,'* by
Goethe, i. 124 j ii. 387
u Divan, The," by Goethe, i. 119
Divine name, the— remarks on the
abuse of, i. 1 10
44 Doctrine of Experiment,'* by
Goethe, i- 393
" Don Juan," by Byron, i. 423
"Doge of Venice, The," by
Goethe, i. 204
Dramatic authors, influence of, i.
■ unities, i. 206
— — power, abuses of pointed
out, and remedy proposed, i. 224
Drawing, i. 422
« Dumb Girl of Portici," ii. 368
Dumont, ii. 218
■ his intimacy with Ben-
tham, ii. 224
■ portrait of, ii. 417
his memoirs of Mirabeau,
**
ii. 418
Ebert, Egon, ii. 158, 178
Eberwein, his " Count of Gleichen,
i. 42
Eckermann, letters from, to Goethe,
ii. 293, 302, 316
■ his remarks on the pub-
lishing of Goethe's letters, ii. 323
■ his comments on the
fourth volume of Goethe's life,
«. 3S5
remarks by him on
Goethe's u Truth and Poetry,
ii. 369
Education, defects of, in Germany,
ii. 61
Eglofistein, the Countess Caroline,
i. 51
Egmont, by Goethe, i. 121, 193
— — Schiller's version of, ii. 136
«Elective Affinities," the, by
Goethe, i. 152
Elegy from Marienbad, i. 79
— — its origin, i. 80
— — Goethe's account of it,
i. 96
Elevation of character among men,
absence of regretted, i. 271
English, the, ii. 57
■ the, imputed motives of,
in their declamations against the
slave-trade, ii. 194
critics, their elevation and
soundness, ii. 107
literature, superiority of,
i. 184
journals, tone of, in 1824,
deplored, i. 116
Entelechia, the, ii. 46
Error, prevalence of, ii. 1 10
" Eugenie," by Goethe, i. 203
Europeans, social evils amongst, ii.
5.5
Euripides, i. 260 ; ii. 337
— — Goethe's defence of, i.
377
Schlegel on, i. 377
Evangelists, the, ii. 334
False tendencies, ii. 185, 186
of the age, i. 232
False doctrines, ii. 331
" Faust," by Goethe, i. 141, 415 $
ii. 12
■ presumptuous proposi-
tion respecting, i. 23 1
— — — want of a musical com-
poser for, ii. 129
second part of, i. 321 J
ii. 195, 197, 202-206, *io, 333,
39»» 399
43 6
INDEX«
" Feinde Die," by HouwaW, I
207
« Fiesco," by SchiUer,i. 327
Fkmming, i. 316
Fouque's " Sangerkreig auf der
Wartburg," ii. 71
" Undine," ii. 7a
France, politics of, i. 428
■ favourable to the produc-
tion of political poems, ii. 256
Frankfort, Eckermann's stay there,
ii. 281, et seq.
French revolution, Goethe's politi-
cal sentiments at the time of,
i. 121
— the, interest excited amongst
them by German works» i. 180
poets, the classic and roman-
tic, ii» 149
Furniture, old-fashioned, i. 325
■ luxurious, ii. 381
Gay, Mademoiselle, poems by, i.
Geist, remarks on the word, ii* 378
u Gemma von Art,** Goethe's cri-
ticism of, ii. 266
Genius derives its materials from
others, ii. 429
Geological poem, i. 169
Gerard, his translation of Goethe's
«Faust/*«* 10
Gerhard, Herr, i. 347
German architecture, old, i. 75
— songs, obscurity of, i. 410
language, study of, recom-
mended, i. 190
— philosophy, ii. 134
Germans, Goethe's remarks on,
"• 59
Germany, unity of, ii. 104
— — cause of her greatness,
u. 105
i. 126
there, ii. 256
Goethe's estimation of,
political poet impossible
Globe newspaper, the, i. 2ocfj
Goethe, personal appearance of,
5 * 39» 54
his reacting aloud, i. 41
— — his translation of the
u Phaeton" of Euripides, i. 42
his interest in the discovery
of salt springs, i. 42
his illness, i. 45
his recovery, i. 48
its celebration at the
theatre, i. 49
his remarks on the theatre,
1. 50
interior of his house, i. 53
" his advice to a young poet,
i. 64, 82
a letter from him, i. 61
— his opinion of Lord Byvon,
»-73
his early life described by
his valet, i. 91
his indisposition, i. 88, 07
probable ' cause of his ill-
ness, i. 98
Rauch 'a statue of, i. 128
■■ his religious opinions, L
120
— — retrospective view of his
life, i. 124
restraints imposed upon
him by society, i. 131
his fears for the future
tranquillity of the world, i. 133
he declares himself a
royalist, i. 134
his comparison between
great and inferior talent, i. 143
— his garden, L 145
— the barometer, i. 147
— his antagonists, i. 155
— — his autobiography, i. 199
his position wkh reference
to natural philosophers, i. 230
laments the false tenden-
cies of the age, i. 232
he urges the necessity for
a concentration of ideas, X. 236
regrets his attention to so
many subjects, i. 237
INDEX.
437
Goethe, refutes the notion that he
is no friend to the people, i. 241
<^— — his high opinion of the
Grand-Duke, i. 242
— — his interest in the manu-
facture of bows and arrows, i.
251, et seq.
influence exercised over
him by celebrated persons, i. 263
cessation of his practical
influence in the theatre, i. 285
his new novel, L 3 19, 329,
345» 354
he comments on the fashion
of fitting up rooms in the old
style, i. 325
his motives for leaving
presents unacknowledged, i. 341
he describes the studies
necessary for an actor of a Greek
hero, i. 380
his plan of treating the
tradition concerning Tell as an
epic poem, i. 412
his ignorance of ornitho-
logy, ii. 1, et seq.
his love of the freedom of
nature, ii. o
his indifference for mere
rank, ii. 10.
— — his belief in invisible influ-
ence, 11. 19
recollections of his disputes
with Kotzebue and others, ii. 62
his portrait byStieler, ii. 62
grief at the death of the
Grand-Duke, ii. 65, 68
remarks on his own works,
ii. 87
his architectural know-
ledge, ii. 128
his sensitiveness concern-
ing his Theory of Colours, ii. 143
his dislike for a splendid
abode, ii. 146
receives a letter from the
King of Bavaria, ii. 168
his " Second Residence in
Rome," ii. 179, 185
his remarks on self-know-
ledge, ii. 180
Goethe, his early letters, ii. 184
— — his opinion of philosophical
meetings, ii. 219
his reception of the news
of the death of the Grand-
Duchess, ii. 230, 232, 236
his first love, ii. 243
the origin of his ballads,
11. 250
he justifies himself for not
having taken up arms, ii. 257
his martyrdom, ii. 258
describes his forcible appro-
priation of a room, #• 260
his Mephistophilistic hu-
mour, ii. 268
his objection to madhouses,
ii. 269
his prejudice against spec-
tacles, ii. 276
remark by him on young
talents, ii. 292
his letters to Eckermann,
u. 310-312
curious papering of his
rooms, ii. 312
his illness, ii. 319, 388
his opinion of conjuring
tricks, ii. 329
his admiration for the
miracle of Christ walking on
the water, ii. 332
his confidence in inocula-
tion, 11. 344
his remarks on the word
Geist, ii. 378
his objection to luxurious
furniture, ii. 381
his sister, ii. 384
his speech on the opening
of the Ilmenau mine, ii. 391
his di rections concerning the
publication of his works, ii. 393
his adventures at Carlsbad,
11. 405
his latest studies, ii. 412
— his death, ii. 413
his deep sense of divine
influence, ii. 425
— — his appearance after death,
11.
429
43»
INDEX.
Goethe, Frau Rath, anecdote of,
ii, 226
Goethe, Frau von, i. 40, 72
■ the chaos estab-
lished by her, ii. 278
Goethe the younger, i. 71, 126, 325
"Goetz von Berlichingen," by
Goethe, i. 139, 207, 288, 291
Gospels, the, genuineness of, ii. 423
Grand -Duke, the, remarks by
Goethe on a sketch of his life,
ii. 94
— — virtues of, ii. 98
r- Goethe*8 connection
with, ii. 98
his mathematical ten-
dencies, ii. 173
his progressive nature,
ii. 335
Grand-Duchess, the, remarks by
Goethe on, ii. 104
Goethe's admiration
for, ii. 381
«« Grand Coptha," by Goethe, ii.
339
Great men, ii. 196
— — before Christ, ii. 425
Greek art the only model, i. 352
— treatment of simple subjects,
L 353
— tragedy, pervading tone of,
»• 357
— — — hero of, 1. 380
— — tragedies, character of, i. 409
— artists, ii. 92
Greeks, their tragic idea of destiny,
ii. 427
Grimm, anecdote of, ii. 235
Guizot, ii. 133, 149
■ remark by him on the
Germans, ii. 163
— — Goethe's admiration for, ii.
223
" Gustavus Vasa," by Arnault,
Goethe's comments on its cri-
tics, ii. 234
Gymnasiums, introduction of archery
into, suggested, i. 249
Gymnastic exercises, abolition of,
regretted, i. 250
H
Hagen, August, i. 65
« Hagestolz," by Iffland, i. 151
Hamann, i. 386
"Hanswursts Hocheit," by Goethe,
fragments of, ii. 361
« Happy Couple, The," by Goethe,
i. 112
Hegel, ii. 35
" Helena," by Goethe, i. 319, 343,
39 8 > 4*5
Herder, i. 179, 386
" Herman and Dorothea,** by
Goethe, i. 200 $ ii. 124
High maxims, ii. 373
■ Goethe's comments, on his
book, i. 366, et seq.
quotation from him, i. 367
Hinrich on antique tragedy, i. 365
History, French and English, com-
pared, i. 269
Roman and Grecian, i. 180
History of mankind, ideas for, i. 179
Hugo, Victor, his " Notre Dame de
Paris," ii. 403
— his excessive fertility,
ii. 409
Hummel, improvisation by, i. 41
Humboldt visits Goethe, i. 90, 98
' Goethe's admiration for
him, i. 299, 363
letter from him to
Goethe, ii. 95
I&J
« Iliad, The," ii. 237
Immerman, i. 101.
" Ilmenau," by Goethe, ii. 101
Imagination, its province, i. 426
" Indian Death Dirge," by Schiller,
ii. 147
Indian Philosophy, ii. 134
Inoculation for small-pox, ii. 344.
Iodine, experiments with, i. 40
" Iphigenia," by Goethe, i. 378
Irish emancipation, ii* 154
Jacobi, i. 385
INDEX.
439
"Journey through Frankfort and
Stuttgart! to Switzerland/* i. 77
Kant, i. 393
Kauffmann, Angelica, i. 105
" Kein Wesen kann zu nichts
Zerfallen," written by Goethe
in contradiction to some lines of
his, ii. 127.
Klopstock, i. 178
Knowledge, practical, i. 256
Kolbe, painting by, i. 41
Kotzebue, i. 77, 338
— — — - Goethe's disputes with,
ii. 62
Krauter, Secretary, i. 85
" Kriegs-glück," by Goethe, i. 104
Krüger, Herr, his impersonation of
Orestes, i- 379
Kunst und Alterthum, i. 195
Lafontaine, i, 152
Lagrange, ii. 127
Landscape painter, qualifications of,
ii. 411
Language, imperfections of, i. 401
Learning to read, difficulty of, ii.
219
Lavater, ii. 133^212
Lazaretto poetry, i. 441
Leo, Heinrich, i. 431
Leonardo da Vinci, i. 300
u Les Deux Isles," by Victor Hugo,
»•3*4
Lessmg, :.soi, 362, 392
Liberal, definition of one, ii. 226
Life, demoralizing effect of, ii. 271
Life of man, ii. 360
Light, polarization of, i. 39
Literary revolution in France, ii. 25 x
Love, i. 114
Luden, history of the Germans by,
>• 3*5
"Luise," by Voss, ii. 330
Luther, Martin, ii. 424
M
Mahometans, their mode of instruc-
tion, i. 390
Mankind, development of, ii. 97
— • artificial state of, de-
plored, ii. 116
Man, self-importance of, ii. 347
Manly, the — want of it in pictures,
i. 336
Manzoni, Alexander, i. 352
' romance by$ i. 432, et
seq.
Martius, Herr von, ii. 75, 219, 220
Memory, effect of illness upon,
ii. 270
" Memoirs of St. Simon," ii. 245
remarks on modern
French literature, ii. 246
Menander, i. 261
Mental culture, ii. 109
" Mephistophiles," by Goethe,
quotation from, ii. 1 1 1
Merck, ii. 125, 135, 382, 385
Merimle, ii. 253
" Metamorphosis of Plants," by
Goethe, i. 359 j ii. 343, 374
Meyer, " History of Art" by, i. 10 1
i. 125,237; ii. 387
•^— anecdote by him of artistic
madness, ii. 191
Meyerbeer, ii. 129
Michael Angelo's statue of Moses,
ii. 284
*' Mignon," by Goethe, i. 354
Milton, "Samson Agonistes" of,
ii. 220
Milan, Eckermann's stay there, ii.
285
Mineralogical world, ii. 352
" Minna von Barnhelm," by Leas-
ing, i. 292
■ Goethe's comments up-
on, ii. 382
Mirabeau, Dumont's memoirs of,
ii. 418
— — - French estimate of, ii.
419
u. 420
Goethe*» remarks on,
+4-°
INDEX*
Missions of men, ii. 51
Modern art, i. 86
Modern painters, i. 390
Moliere, i. 262, 284
his " Tartuffe," '»• «9*
his M Malade Imaginaire,"
»• 374
*• 375
Goethe*s love for him,
Menander compared to
him, i. 375
SchlegePs critique of, i. 376
Moon, the— its change does not
affect the weather, i. 387
Mozart, letter from, i. 299
Music, effect of, upon Goethe,
i. 317
— petrified, ii. 146
Musical talent, ii. 338
Mysteries, natural, ii. 129
N
Napoleon, Eugene, i. 144
Buonaparte, i. 152, 287,
3*4
Goethe's admiration of,
Goethe's opinion of, ii.
personal influence of, ii.
his campaign in Egypt,
ii. 165, 166
his impulse to speak,
»*3*5
4°>43
'59
11. 172
his fate, ii. 228
— — his example, ii. 377
Nature, the accessible and inacces-
sible in, i. 388
— — artists' twofold relation to
her, i. 401
■ contradictory phenomena
in, 11. 253
Natural mysteries, ii. 129
— — science, original minds re-
quired in, ii. in
science, elevating influence
Niebuhr, ancient treaty discovered
by him, i. 359
Neureuther, ii. 391
w Oberon," by Wieland, ii. 24a
Officials, choice of, ii. 45
Old Testament, ii. 421
Omnipresence of God, ii. 398
Opera, ii. 81
Organic and mineralogical worlds,
ii. 352
Ornithology, Goethe's ignorance
of, ii. 1, et seq.
■ anecdotes of, ii. 32
of, ii. 131
National hatred, ii. 259
Painters, young, deficiencies of 9
i. 300
— — — modern, i. 390
" Pandora," i. 74
Panama, passage through Isthmus
of, i. 364
Parry, Major, account of Lord
Byron, i. 268
Paris, aids to the development of
talent in, i. 407
"Paria, The," Goethe's poem of
the glorification of, i. 88
Peter the Great, ii. 187
Petersburg!), inundation of, i. 185
Petrified music, ii. 146
" Phaeton of Euripides," translated
by Goethe, i. 42
Philoctetes of ^schylus, i. 353
of Euripides, i. 353
of Sophocles, i. 353
Platen, Count, the Ghazels or, i. 99
~ L J5 1 » ü * 33*
Plays, casting of, i. 229
objectionable, i. 285
Poets, modern German tragic, i. 77
advice to, i. 64, 82
- objective and subjective ten-
dencies of, i. 283
French and German com-
pared, i. 314
I
INDEX.
441
Poet», delicate organization of, ii.
200
— unjust demands upon, ii. 428
■ the aim of, i. 352
Poetical culture in Germany, L 286
Poetic reeling, universality of, i.351
Poetry, classical and romantic, ii.
273
Poetesses, i. 194
Pouttin, landscapes of, i. 128
Preller, i. 265
Priesthood, christian, ii. 422
««Prison Key, The," a Servian
poem, i. 347
Provincial pronunciation, i. 163
Protestants and catholics, ii. 424
Productiveness, ii. 41, 47
Pulcinella, ii. 235
Races of men, ii. 77
Ram berg, i. 142
««Rameau's Neffe," by Goethe,
i.49
« Rasselas," L 423
Rauch*s statue of Goethe, i. 128
Raupach, his "Erdennacht," i.
7?
Reciprocity of mud and body, ii.
272
Reformation, the, ii. 424
Rehbein, Counsellor, i. 93
Religion, primitive, ii. 421
Reutern, Herr von, ii. 389
Representation of surrounding ob-
jects by artists, i. 268
Revolutions, Goethe's opinions of,
i. 122
Riemer, Herr, i. 41
«« Rire de Mirabeau, Le," ii. 274
«« Roderick Random," i. 423
Rome, ii. 81
Rossini's «« Moses," ii. 76, 81
Root, animals of, i. 138, 143
«« Rouge et Noir," by Stendhal,
ii. 328
Rubens, landscape by, i. 339, 399
Rubens, double light in picture by,
i. 400
VOL. II.
Rulers, popularity of, ii. 15$
Riickert, his «« Roses from the
East," i. 89
Rural population, ii. 56
Russian campaign, ii. 164
Rythm, ii. 161
Saint Hilaire, Geoffrey de, his con-
test with Cuvier, iL 201
Saint Simon, memoirs of, ii. 245
Saint Simonians, the, iL 313
Salt springs, i. 42
«« Samson Agonistes" of Milton,
ii. 220
Schiller, i. 93
his «« Wallenstein," i. 93
his self-torments, i. 94
' his method of working,
i. 94
■ politics of, i. 122
1. 151, 154, 156
■ describes Goethe, i. 202
* his «« Thierkreis," i. 202
■ compared to Byron, i. 335
«^— his physical and ideal free-
dom, L 336
Goethe's connection with,
L3S6
influence of national cul-
ture on, i. 408
his ««William Tell," i.
414 } 11. 372
anecdote of, iL 15
■ Goethe's remarks on, ii. 69
his acquaintance with
Goethe, ii. 148
his difficulty in controlling
his subject, ii. 267
his discrimination
in
abridgment, ii. 279
Schlegel, L 376, 403
Schmidt, Counsellor, hit playing,
L 40, 72
Schöne, Carl, ii. 331
Schubart, ii. 121
Schütze, St i. 290
Schultz, state counsellor, i. 69
G G
^ 1
442
INDEX.
Schwanefeld, landscapes of, ii. 412
Scientific men, jealousy of, i. 107
Scott, Sir Walter, i. 198
— his letter to Goethe, i. 437
— — remark on, ii. 73
his « Fair Maid of Perth,"
ii. 72, Si
his "Waverley,"ii. 83
— his " History of Napoleon,"
iL 212
• Goethe's admiration for, ii.
364
- remarks on, ii. 367
Self-control, necessity for, i. 159
Seven Years' War, the, i. 133
Servian poems, " Motives" of, i.
Shakspeare, discourse upon, i. 114
his disregard of the
unities, i. 206
■ greatness of, i. 276
not a theatrical poet,
i. 276, 292
277
his « Macbeth," i.
his " Troilus and
Cresaida," i. 277
lively scenes in his
plays, i. 357
— — — - artistic boldness of 9 i.
402
— his power of produc-
tion, ii. 48, et seq.
Solger, writings and letters of, i.
339
Sophocles, the " Antigone" of, i.
371» 381 #
■ his knowledge of thea-
trical effect, i. 372
his " Philoctetes," i.
373
- his u CEdipu», i» 373
Society, Goethe's deference to feel-
ings of, i. 131
Soret, his " Midnight," ii. 407
Soul, immortality of the, ii. 122
Spectacles, Goethe's dislike of, ii.
276
Spiritual knowledge, limits of, ii.
x 93
Stage, writing for the, ii. 124
€t Starring" a theatre, i. 305
Stieler's portrait of Goethe, ii. 62
Sternberg, Count, i. 417
Stendhal, Count, his "Rouge et
Noire," ii. 328
Switzerland, first impression of, on
. Goethe, i. 127, 412
Symanowska, Madame, her playing,
i. 76, 81, 85
"Tartuffe," of MoliSre, i. 292
Talent, great and inferior, com-
pared, i. 143
Talents, young, ii. 292
"Tasso," by Goethe, i. 415
Tell, Goethe's plan of an epic on,
i. 412
Theatre, improvement of, i. 49
— — • fondness of youth for, i.
214
' management of, i. 222,
245, 293
Theatrical performances on Sunday,
i. 222
' scenery, ii. 237
"Thierkreis, The," by Schiller, i.
202
Thomson, poems of, ii. 427
Heck, i. 153
■ his reading of Goethe's
« Clavigo," ü. 83
Topfer, ii. 327
— — — drawings of, ii. 417
Tasso Torquato, i. 172, 192
"Trilogie der Leidenschaft," by
Goethe, ii. 408
" Two Foscari," by Byron, i. 291,
4*4
U
Unland, i. 74 ; ii. 429
Ulrica, Fräulein, i. 73, 102
" Undine," by Fouqu6, ii. 72.
INDEX.
443
Utilitarians, ii. 348
Urania," by Tiedge, i. 135
c«
Vegetation, influence of, ii. 151
Victor Hugo, i. 3 14
Villemain, ii. 133, 1349 149
Voigt, Hofrath, ii. 240
Voltaire, Goethe's opinion of, ii.
114
influence of, ii. 209, 379
Voss, Goethe's opinion of, ii. 14
■ his translation of Homer, ii.
'74
W
" Wahl ver wandschaften," by
Goethe, i. 339, 416 ; ii. 125,
"Wahrheit und Dichtung," by
Goethe, i. 173
" Wallenstein," by Schiller, i. 93,
"• 397
" Walpurgis-nacht," by Goethe, ii.
217,227,349
" Wanderjahre," by Goethe, 1. 319
Weakness of the age, ii. 128
Weather, Goethe's theory of, J. r 2
— — its changes, i. 387
Weimar, theatre of, i. 211, et seq.
■ plans for advancing the
drama there, i. 216
plan for an improved
theatre there, i. 220
the bookbinders of, i. 53
• police restrictions of, ii. 59
Wellington, Duke of, i. 286
" Werther," by Goethe, i. 106, 116
Buonaparte's fondness
for, ii. 167
its suppression by the
Catholics, ii. 155
Wieland, i. 201, 386
— — tomb of, i. 421
— — remark by him, i. 443
his " Oberon," ii. 242
« Wilhelm Meister," by Goethe, i.
200, 275
« William Tell," by Schiller, ii. 372
Winckelmann, i. 363
Wisdom, ii. 340
Wolf, Friedrich August,!. 104, 157
Wolff, Dr., improvisatore, i. 281
Wolff, Goethe's pupil, ii. 90
Women, Goethe's idea of, ii. 93
Writing for the stage, ii. 124
Writing, German, English, and
French styles of, compared, i. 154
et seq.
"Xenien, The," by Goethe and
Schiller, i. 201
Young talents, ii. 292
"Zauberflöte, Goethe's sequel to,
i. 50
Zauper, studies by, i. 81
Zelter, i. 10 1, 103 ; ii. 160
— letter of, to Goethe, i. 239
London : Printed by Stewart and Murray, Old Bailey.
ERRATA.
Vol. ii. p. 302, in lines 6 and 4 from the bottom, read Geneva
for Genoa, and vice versa.
» » P* 3369 note, far Personalität read Persönlichkeit.